PART I - CHAPTER XXIII.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE IN THE SIERRA MORENA, WHICH WAS ONE OF THERAREST ADVENTURES RELATED IN THIS VERACIOUS HISTORYSeeing himself served in this way, Don Quixote said to his squire, "Ihave always heard it said, Sancho, that to do good to boors is to throwwater into the sea. If I had believed thy words, I should have avoidedthis trouble; but it is done now, it is only to have patience and takewarning for the future.""Your worship will take warning as much as I am a Turk," returned Sancho;"but, as you say this mischief might have been avoided if you hadbelieved me, believe me now, and a still greater one will be avoided; forI tell you chivalry is of no account with the Holy Brotherhood, and theydon't care two maravedis for all the knights-errant in the world; and Ican tell you I fancy I hear their arrows whistling past my ears thisminute.""Thou art a coward by nature, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "but lest thoushouldst say I am obstinate, and that I never do as thou dost advise,this once I will take thy advice, and withdraw out of reach of that furythou so dreadest; but it must be on one condition, that never, in life orin death, thou art to say to anyone that I retired or withdrew from thisdanger out of fear, but only in compliance with thy entreaties; for ifthou sayest otherwise thou wilt lie therein, and from this time to that,and from that to this, I give thee lie, and say thou liest and wilt lieevery time thou thinkest or sayest it; and answer me not again; for atthe mere thought that I am withdrawing or retiring from any danger, aboveall from this, which does seem to carry some little shadow of fear withit, I am ready to take my stand here and await alone, not only that HolyBrotherhood you talk of and dread, but the brothers of the twelve tribesof Israel, and the Seven Maccabees, and Castor and Pollux, and all thebrothers and brotherhoods in the world.""Senor," replied Sancho, "to retire is not to flee, and there is nowisdom in waiting when danger outweighs hope, and it is the part of wisemen to preserve themselves to-day for to-morrow, and not risk all in oneday; and let me tell you, though I am a clown and a boor, I have got somenotion of what they call safe conduct; so repent not of having taken myadvice, but mount Rocinante if you can, and if not I will help you; andfollow me, for my mother-wit tells me we have more need of legs thanhands just now."Don Quixote mounted without replying, and, Sancho leading the way on hisass, they entered the side of the Sierra Morena, which was close by, asit was Sancho's design to cross it entirely and come out again at El Visoor Almodovar del Campo, and hide for some days among its crags so as toescape the search of the Brotherhood should they come to look for them.He was encouraged in this by perceiving that the stock of provisionscarried by the ass had come safe out of the fray with the galley slaves,a circumstance that he regarded as a miracle, seeing how they pillagedand ransacked.That night they reached the very heart of the Sierra Morena, where itseemed prudent to Sancho to pass the night and even some days, at leastas many as the stores he carried might last, and so they encamped betweentwo rocks and among some cork trees; but fatal destiny, which, accordingto the opinion of those who have not the light of the true faith,directs, arranges, and settles everything in its own way, so ordered itthat Gines de Pasamonte, the famous knave and thief who by the virtue andmadness of Don Quixote had been released from the chain, driven by fearof the Holy Brotherhood, which he had good reason to dread, resolved totake hiding in the mountains; and his fate and fear led him to the samespot to which Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had been led by theirs, justin time to recognise them and leave them to fall asleep: and as thewicked are always ungrateful, and necessity leads to evildoing, andimmediate advantage overcomes all considerations of the future, Gines,who was neither grateful nor well-principled, made up his mind to stealSancho Panza's ass, not troubling himself about Rocinante, as being aprize that was no good either to pledge or sell. While Sancho slept hestole his ass, and before day dawned he was far out of reach.Aurora made her appearance bringing gladness to the earth but sadness toSancho Panza, for he found that his Dapple was missing, and seeinghimself bereft of him he began the saddest and most doleful lament in theworld, so loud that Don Quixote awoke at his exclamations and heard himsaying, "O son of my bowels, born in my very house, my children'splaything, my wife's joy, the envy of my neighbours, relief of myburdens, and lastly, half supporter of myself, for with thesix-and-twenty maravedis thou didst earn me daily I met half my charges."Don Quixote, when he heard the lament and learned the cause, consoledSancho with the best arguments he could, entreating him to be patient,and promising to give him a letter of exchange ordering three out of fiveass-colts that he had at home to be given to him. Sancho took comfort atthis, dried his tears, suppressed his sobs, and returned thanks for thekindness shown him by Don Quixote. He on his part was rejoiced to theheart on entering the mountains, as they seemed to him to be just theplace for the adventures he was in quest of. They brought back to hismemory the marvellous adventures that had befallen knights-errant in likesolitudes and wilds, and he went along reflecting on these things, soabsorbed and carried away by them that he had no thought for anythingelse.Nor had Sancho any other care (now that he fancied he was travelling in asafe quarter) than to satisfy his appetite with such remains as were leftof the clerical spoils, and so he marched behind his master laden withwhat Dapple used to carry, emptying the sack and packing his paunch, andso long as he could go that way, he would not have given a farthing tomeet with another adventure.While so engaged he raised his eyes and saw that his master had halted,and was trying with the point of his pike to lift some bulky object thatlay upon the ground, on which he hastened to join him and help him if itwere needful, and reached him just as with the point of the pike he wasraising a saddle-pad with a valise attached to it, half or rather whollyrotten and torn; but so heavy were they that Sancho had to help to takethem up, and his master directed him to see what the valise contained.Sancho did so with great alacrity, and though the valise was secured by achain and padlock, from its torn and rotten condition he was able to seeits contents, which were four shirts of fine holland, and other articlesof linen no less curious than clean; and in a handkerchief he found agood lot of gold crowns, and as soon as he saw them he exclaimed:"Blessed be all Heaven for sending us an adventure that is good forsomething!"Searching further he found a little memorandum book richly bound; thisDon Quixote asked of him, telling him to take the money and keep it forhimself. Sancho kissed his hands for the favour, and cleared the valiseof its linen, which he stowed away in the provision sack. Considering thewhole matter, Don Quixote observed:"It seems to me, Sancho--and it is impossible it can be otherwise-thatsome strayed traveller must have crossed this sierra and been attackedand slain by footpads, who brought him to this remote spot to bury him.""That cannot be," answered Sancho, "because if they had been robbers theywould not have left this money.""Thou art right," said Don Quixote, "and I cannot guess or explain whatthis may mean; but stay; let us see if in this memorandum book there isanything written by which we may be able to trace out or discover what wewant to know."He opened it, and the first thing he found in it, written roughly but ina very good hand, was a sonnet, and reading it aloud that Sancho mighthear it, he found that it ran as follows:SONNET Or Love is lacking in intelligence, Or to the height of cruelty attains, Or else it is my doom to suffer pains Beyond the measure due to my offence. But if Love be a God, it follows thence That he knows all, and certain it remains No God loves cruelty; then who ordains This penance that enthrals while it torments? It were a falsehood, Chloe, thee to name; Such evil with such goodness cannot live; And against Heaven I dare not charge the blame, I only know it is my fate to die. To him who knows not whence his malady A miracle alone a cure can give. "There is nothing to be learned from that rhyme," said Sancho, "unless bythat clue there's in it, one may draw out the ball of the whole matter.""What clue is there?" said Don Quixote."I thought your worship spoke of a clue in it," said Sancho."I only said Chloe," replied Don Quixote; "and that no doubt, is the nameof the lady of whom the author of the sonnet complains; and, faith, hemust be a tolerable poet, or I know little of the craft.""Then your worship understands rhyming too?""And better than thou thinkest," replied Don Quixote, "as thou shalt seewhen thou carriest a letter written in verse from beginning to end to mylady Dulcinea del Toboso, for I would have thee know, Sancho, that all ormost of the knights-errant in days of yore were great troubadours andgreat musicians, for both of these accomplishments, or more properlyspeaking gifts, are the peculiar property of lovers-errant: true it isthat the verses of the knights of old have more spirit than neatness inthem.""Read more, your worship," said Sancho, "and you will find something thatwill enlighten us."Don Quixote turned the page and said, "This is prose and seems to be aletter.""A correspondence letter, senor?""From the beginning it seems to be a love letter," replied Don Quixote."Then let your worship read it aloud," said Sancho, "for I am very fondof love matters.""With all my heart," said Don Quixote, and reading it aloud as Sancho hadrequested him, he found it ran thus:Thy false promise and my sure misfortune carry me to a place whence thenews of my death will reach thy ears before the words of my complaint.Ungrateful one, thou hast rejected me for one more wealthy, but not moreworthy; but if virtue were esteemed wealth I should neither envy thefortunes of others nor weep for misfortunes of my own. What thy beautyraised up thy deeds have laid low; by it I believed thee to be an angel,by them I know thou art a woman. Peace be with thee who hast sent war tome, and Heaven grant that the deceit of thy husband be ever hidden fromthee, so that thou repent not of what thou hast done, and I reap not arevenge I would not have.When he had finished the letter, Don Quixote said, "There is less to begathered from this than from the verses, except that he who wrote it issome rejected lover;" and turning over nearly all the pages of the bookhe found more verses and letters, some of which he could read, whileothers he could not; but they were all made up of complaints, laments,misgivings, desires and aversions, favours and rejections, somerapturous, some doleful. While Don Quixote examined the book, Sanchoexamined the valise, not leaving a corner in the whole of it or in thepad that he did not search, peer into, and explore, or seam that he didnot rip, or tuft of wool that he did not pick to pieces, lest anythingshould escape for want of care and pains; so keen was the covetousnessexcited in him by the discovery of the crowns, which amounted to near ahundred; and though he found no more booty, he held the blanket flights,balsam vomits, stake benedictions, carriers' fisticuffs, missingalforjas, stolen coat, and all the hunger, thirst, and weariness he hadendured in the service of his good master, cheap at the price; as heconsidered himself more than fully indemnified for all by the payment hereceived in the gift of the treasure-trove.The Knight of the Rueful Countenance was still very anxious to find outwho the owner of the valise could be, conjecturing from the sonnet andletter, from the money in gold, and from the fineness of the shirts, thathe must be some lover of distinction whom the scorn and cruelty of hislady had driven to some desperate course; but as in that uninhabited andrugged spot there was no one to be seen of whom he could inquire, he sawnothing else for it but to push on, taking whatever road Rocinantechose--which was where he could make his way--firmly persuaded that amongthese wilds he could not fail to meet some rare adventure. As he wentalong, then, occupied with these thoughts, he perceived on the summit ofa height that rose before their eyes a man who went springing from rockto rock and from tussock to tussock with marvellous agility. As well ashe could make out he was unclad, with a thick black beard, long tangledhair, and bare legs and feet, his thighs were covered by breechesapparently of tawny velvet but so ragged that they showed his skin inseveral places.He was bareheaded, and notwithstanding the swiftness with which he passedas has been described, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance observed andnoted all these trifles, and though he made the attempt, he was unable tofollow him, for it was not granted to the feebleness of Rocinante to makeway over such rough ground, he being, moreover, slow-paced and sluggishby nature. Don Quixote at once came to the conclusion that this was theowner of the saddle-pad and of the valise, and made up his mind to go insearch of him, even though he should have to wander a year in thosemountains before he found him, and so he directed Sancho to take a shortcut over one side of the mountain, while he himself went by the other,and perhaps by this means they might light upon this man who had passedso quickly out of their sight."I could not do that," said Sancho, "for when I separate from yourworship fear at once lays hold of me, and assails me with all sorts ofpanics and fancies; and let what I now say be a notice that from thistime forth I am not going to stir a finger's width from your presence.""It shall be so," said he of the Rueful Countenance, "and I am very gladthat thou art willing to rely on my courage, which will never fail thee,even though the soul in thy body fail thee; so come on now behind meslowly as well as thou canst, and make lanterns of thine eyes; let usmake the circuit of this ridge; perhaps we shall light upon this man thatwe saw, who no doubt is no other than the owner of what we found."To which Sancho made answer, "Far better would it be not to look for him,for, if we find him, and he happens to be the owner of the money, it isplain I must restore it; it would be better, therefore, that withouttaking this needless trouble, I should keep possession of it until insome other less meddlesome and officious way the real owner may bediscovered; and perhaps that will be when I shall have spent it, and thenthe king will hold me harmless.""Thou art wrong there, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "for now that we have asuspicion who the owner is, and have him almost before us, we are boundto seek him and make restitution; and if we do not see him, the strongsuspicion we have as to his being the owner makes us as guilty as if hewere so; and so, friend Sancho, let not our search for him give thee anyuneasiness, for if we find him it will relieve mine."And so saying he gave Rocinante the spur, and Sancho followed him on footand loaded, and after having partly made the circuit of the mountain theyfound lying in a ravine, dead and half devoured by dogs and pecked byjackdaws, a mule saddled and bridled, all which still furtherstrengthened their suspicion that he who had fled was the owner of themule and the saddle-pad.As they stood looking at it they heard a whistle like that of a shepherdwatching his flock, and suddenly on their left there appeared a greatnumber of goats and behind them on the summit of the mountain thegoatherd in charge of them, a man advanced in years. Don Quixote calledaloud to him and begged him to come down to where they stood. He shoutedin return, asking what had brought them to that spot, seldom or nevertrodden except by the feet of goats, or of the wolves and other wildbeasts that roamed around. Sancho in return bade him come down, and theywould explain all to him.The goatherd descended, and reaching the place where Don Quixote stood,he said, "I will wager you are looking at that hack mule that lies deadin the hollow there, and, faith, it has been lying there now these sixmonths; tell me, have you come upon its master about here?""We have come upon nobody," answered Don Quixote, "nor on anything excepta saddle-pad and a little valise that we found not far from this.""I found it too," said the goatherd, "but I would not lift it nor go nearit for fear of some ill-luck or being charged with theft, for the devilis crafty, and things rise up under one's feet to make one fall withoutknowing why or wherefore.""That's exactly what I say," said Sancho; "I found it too, and I wouldnot go within a stone's throw of it; there I left it, and there it liesjust as it was, for I don't want a dog with a bell.""Tell me, good man," said Don Quixote, "do you know who is the owner ofthis property?""All I can tell you," said the goatherd, "is that about six months ago,more or less, there arrived at a shepherd's hut three leagues, perhaps,away from this, a youth of well-bred appearance and manners, mounted onthat same mule which lies dead here, and with the same saddle-pad andvalise which you say you found and did not touch. He asked us what partof this sierra was the most rugged and retired; we told him that it waswhere we now are; and so in truth it is, for if you push on half a leaguefarther, perhaps you will not be able to find your way out; and I amwondering how you have managed to come here, for there is no road or paththat leads to this spot. I say, then, that on hearing our answer theyouth turned about and made for the place we pointed out to him, leavingus all charmed with his good looks, and wondering at his question and thehaste with which we saw him depart in the direction of the sierra; andafter that we saw him no more, until some days afterwards he crossed thepath of one of our shepherds, and without saying a word to him, came upto him and gave him several cuffs and kicks, and then turned to the asswith our provisions and took all the bread and cheese it carried, andhaving done this made off back again into the sierra with extraordinaryswiftness. When some of us goatherds learned this we went in search ofhim for about two days through the most remote portion of this sierra, atthe end of which we found him lodged in the hollow of a large thick corktree. He came out to meet us with great gentleness, with his dress nowtorn and his face so disfigured and burned by the sun, that we hardlyrecognised him but that his clothes, though torn, convinced us, from therecollection we had of them, that he was the person we were looking for.He saluted us courteously, and in a few well-spoken words he told us notto wonder at seeing him going about in this guise, as it was binding uponhim in order that he might work out a penance which for his many sins hadbeen imposed upon him. We asked him to tell us who he was, but we werenever able to find out from him: we begged of him too, when he was inwant of food, which he could not do without, to tell us where we shouldfind him, as we would bring it to him with all good-will and readiness;or if this were not to his taste, at least to come and ask it of us andnot take it by force from the shepherds. He thanked us for the offer,begged pardon for the late assault, and promised for the future to ask itin God's name without offering violence to anybody. As for fixed abode,he said he had no other than that which chance offered wherever nightmight overtake him; and his words ended in an outburst of weeping sobitter that we who listened to him must have been very stones had we notjoined him in it, comparing what we saw of him the first time with whatwe saw now; for, as I said, he was a graceful and gracious youth, and inhis courteous and polished language showed himself to be of good birthand courtly breeding, and rustics as we were that listened to him, evento our rusticity his gentle bearing sufficed to make it plain."But in the midst of his conversation he stopped and became silent,keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground for some time, during which westood still waiting anxiously to see what would come of this abstraction;and with no little pity, for from his behaviour, now staring at theground with fixed gaze and eyes wide open without moving an eyelid, againclosing them, compressing his lips and raising his eyebrows, we couldperceive plainly that a fit of madness of some kind had come upon him;and before long he showed that what we imagined was the truth, for hearose in a fury from the ground where he had thrown himself, and attackedthe first he found near him with such rage and fierceness that if we hadnot dragged him off him, he would have beaten or bitten him to death, allthe while exclaiming, 'Oh faithless Fernando, here, here shalt thou paythe penalty of the wrong thou hast done me; these hands shall tear outthat heart of thine, abode and dwelling of all iniquity, but of deceitand fraud above all; and to these he added other words all in effectupbraiding this Fernando and charging him with treachery andfaithlessness."We forced him to release his hold with no little difficulty, and withoutanother word he left us, and rushing off plunged in among these brakesand brambles, so as to make it impossible for us to follow him; from thiswe suppose that madness comes upon him from time to time, and that someone called Fernando must have done him a wrong of a grievous nature suchas the condition to which it had brought him seemed to show. All this hasbeen since then confirmed on those occasions, and they have been many, onwhich he has crossed our path, at one time to beg the shepherds to givehim some of the food they carry, at another to take it from them byforce; for when there is a fit of madness upon him, even though theshepherds offer it freely, he will not accept it but snatches it fromthem by dint of blows; but when he is in his senses he begs it for thelove of God, courteously and civilly, and receives it with many thanksand not a few tears. And to tell you the truth, sirs," continued thegoatherd, "it was yesterday that we resolved, I and four of the lads, twoof them our servants, and the other two friends of mine, to go in searchof him until we find him, and when we do to take him, whether by force orof his own consent, to the town of Almodovar, which is eight leagues fromthis, and there strive to cure him (if indeed his malady admits of acure), or learn when he is in his senses who he is, and if he hasrelatives to whom we may give notice of his misfortune. This, sirs, isall I can say in answer to what you have asked me; and be sure that theowner of the articles you found is he whom you saw pass by with suchnimbleness and so naked."For Don Quixote had already described how he had seen the man go boundingalong the mountain side, and he was now filled with amazement at what heheard from the goatherd, and more eager than ever to discover who theunhappy madman was; and in his heart he resolved, as he had done before,to search for him all over the mountain, not leaving a corner or caveunexamined until he had found him. But chance arranged matters betterthan he expected or hoped, for at that very moment, in a gorge on themountain that opened where they stood, the youth he wished to find madehis appearance, coming along talking to himself in a way that would havebeen unintelligible near at hand, much more at a distance. His garb waswhat has been described, save that as he drew near, Don Quixote perceivedthat a tattered doublet which he wore was amber-tanned, from which heconcluded that one who wore such garments could not be of very low rank.Approaching them, the youth greeted them in a harsh and hoarse voice butwith great courtesy. Don Quixote returned his salutation with equalpoliteness, and dismounting from Rocinante advanced with well-bredbearing and grace to embrace him, and held him for some time close in hisarms as if he had known him for a long time. The other, whom we may callthe Ragged One of the Sorry Countenance, as Don Quixote was of theRueful, after submitting to the embrace pushed him back a little and,placing his hands on Don Quixote's shoulders, stood gazing at him as ifseeking to see whether he knew him, not less amazed, perhaps, at thesight of the face, figure, and armour of Don Quixote than Don Quixote wasat the sight of him. To be brief, the first to speak after embracing wasthe Ragged One, and he said what will be told farther on.