PART I - CHAPTER XXV.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　WHICH TREATS OF THE STRANGE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO THE STOUT KNIGHT OFLA MANCHA IN THE SIERRA MORENA, AND OF HIS IMITATION OF THE PENANCE OFBELTENEBROSDon Quixote took leave of the goatherd, and once more mounting Rocinantebade Sancho follow him, which he having no ass, did very discontentedly.They proceeded slowly, making their way into the most rugged part of themountain, Sancho all the while dying to have a talk with his master, andlonging for him to begin, so that there should be no breach of theinjunction laid upon him; but unable to keep silence so long he said tohim:"Senor Don Quixote, give me your worship's blessing and dismissal, forI'd like to go home at once to my wife and children with whom I can atany rate talk and converse as much as I like; for to want me to gothrough these solitudes day and night and not speak to you when I have amind is burying me alive. If luck would have it that animals spoke asthey did in the days of Guisopete, it would not be so bad, because Icould talk to Rocinante about whatever came into my head, and so put upwith my ill-fortune; but it is a hard case, and not to be borne withpatience, to go seeking adventures all one's life and get nothing butkicks and blanketings, brickbats and punches, and with all this to haveto sew up one's mouth without daring to say what is in one's heart, justas if one were dumb.""I understand thee, Sancho," replied Don Quixote; "thou art dying to havethe interdict I placed upon thy tongue removed; consider it removed, andsay what thou wilt while we are wandering in these mountains.""So be it," said Sancho; "let me speak now, for God knows what willhappen by-and-by; and to take advantage of the permit at once, I ask,what made your worship stand up so for that Queen Majimasa, or whateverher name is, or what did it matter whether that abbot was a friend ofhers or not? for if your worship had let that pass--and you were not ajudge in the matter--it is my belief the madman would have gone on withhis story, and the blow of the stone, and the kicks, and more than half adozen cuffs would have been escaped.""In faith, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "if thou knewest as I do whatan honourable and illustrious lady Queen Madasima was, I know thouwouldst say I had great patience that I did not break in pieces the mouththat uttered such blasphemies, for a very great blasphemy it is to say orimagine that a queen has made free with a surgeon. The truth of the storyis that that Master Elisabad whom the madman mentioned was a man of greatprudence and sound judgment, and served as governor and physician to thequeen, but to suppose that she was his mistress is nonsense deservingvery severe punishment; and as a proof that Cardenio did not know what hewas saying, remember when he said it he was out of his wits.""That is what I say," said Sancho; "there was no occasion for minding thewords of a madman; for if good luck had not helped your worship, and hehad sent that stone at your head instead of at your breast, a fine way weshould have been in for standing up for my lady yonder, God confound her!And then, would not Cardenio have gone free as a madman?""Against men in their senses or against madmen," said Don Quixote, "everyknight-errant is bound to stand up for the honour of women, whoever theymay be, much more for queens of such high degree and dignity as QueenMadasima, for whom I have a particular regard on account of her amiablequalities; for, besides being extremely beautiful, she was very wise, andvery patient under her misfortunes, of which she had many; and thecounsel and society of the Master Elisabad were a great help and supportto her in enduring her afflictions with wisdom and resignation; hence theignorant and ill-disposed vulgar took occasion to say and think that shewas his mistress; and they lie, I say it once more, and will lie twohundred times more, all who think and say so.""I neither say nor think so," said Sancho; "let them look to it; withtheir bread let them eat it; they have rendered account to God whetherthey misbehaved or not; I come from my vineyard, I know nothing; I am notfond of prying into other men's lives; he who buys and lies feels it inhis purse; moreover, naked was I born, naked I find myself, I neitherlose nor gain; but if they did, what is that to me? many think there areflitches where there are no hooks; but who can put gates to the openplain? moreover they said of God-""God bless me," said Don Quixote, "what a set of absurdities thou artstringing together! What has what we are talking about got to do with theproverbs thou art threading one after the other? for God's sake hold thytongue, Sancho, and henceforward keep to prodding thy ass and don'tmeddle in what does not concern thee; and understand with all thy fivesenses that everything I have done, am doing, or shall do, is wellfounded on reason and in conformity with the rules of chivalry, for Iunderstand them better than all the world that profess them.""Senor," replied Sancho, "is it a good rule of chivalry that we should goastray through these mountains without path or road, looking for a madmanwho when he is found will perhaps take a fancy to finish what he began,not his story, but your worship's head and my ribs, and end by breakingthem altogether for us?""Peace, I say again, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "for let me tell thee itis not so much the desire of finding that madman that leads me into theseregions as that which I have of performing among them an achievementwherewith I shall win eternal name and fame throughout the known world;and it shall be such that I shall thereby set the seal on all that canmake a knight-errant perfect and famous.""And is it very perilous, this achievement?""No," replied he of the Rueful Countenance; "though it may be in the dicethat we may throw deuce-ace instead of sixes; but all will depend on thydiligence.""On my diligence!" said Sancho."Yes," said Don Quixote, "for if thou dost return soon from the placewhere I mean to send thee, my penance will be soon over, and my glorywill soon begin. But as it is not right to keep thee any longer insuspense, waiting to see what comes of my words, I would have thee know,Sancho, that the famous Amadis of Gaul was one of the most perfectknights-errant--I am wrong to say he was one; he stood alone, the first,the only one, the lord of all that were in the world in his time. A figfor Don Belianis, and for all who say he equalled him in any respect,for, my oath upon it, they are deceiving themselves! I say, too, thatwhen a painter desires to become famous in his art he endeavours to copythe originals of the rarest painters that he knows; and the same ruleholds good for all the most important crafts and callings that serve toadorn a state; thus must he who would be esteemed prudent and patientimitate Ulysses, in whose person and labours Homer presents to us alively picture of prudence and patience; as Virgil, too, shows us in theperson of AEneas the virtue of a pious son and the sagacity of a braveand skilful captain; not representing or describing them as they were,but as they ought to be, so as to leave the example of their virtues toposterity. In the same way Amadis was the polestar, day-star, sun ofvaliant and devoted knights, whom all we who fight under the banner oflove and chivalry are bound to imitate. This, then, being so, I consider,friend Sancho, that the knight-errant who shall imitate him most closelywill come nearest to reaching the perfection of chivalry. Now one of theinstances in which this knight most conspicuously showed his prudence,worth, valour, endurance, fortitude, and love, was when he withdrew,rejected by the Lady Oriana, to do penance upon the Pena Pobre, changinghis name into that of Beltenebros, a name assuredly significant andappropriate to the life which he had voluntarily adopted. So, as it iseasier for me to imitate him in this than in cleaving giants asunder,cutting off serpents' heads, slaying dragons, routing armies, destroyingfleets, and breaking enchantments, and as this place is so well suitedfor a similar purpose, I must not allow the opportunity to escape whichnow so conveniently offers me its forelock.""What is it in reality," said Sancho, "that your worship means to do insuch an out-of-the-way place as this?""Have I not told thee," answered Don Quixote, "that I mean to imitateAmadis here, playing the victim of despair, the madman, the maniac, so asat the same time to imitate the valiant Don Roland, when at the fountainhe had evidence of the fair Angelica having disgraced herself with Medoroand through grief thereat went mad, and plucked up trees, troubled thewaters of the clear springs, slew destroyed flocks, burned down huts,levelled houses, dragged mares after him, and perpetrated a hundredthousand other outrages worthy of everlasting renown and record? Andthough I have no intention of imitating Roland, or Orlando, or Rotolando(for he went by all these names), step by step in all the mad things hedid, said, and thought, I will make a rough copy to the best of my powerof all that seems to me most essential; but perhaps I shall contentmyself with the simple imitation of Amadis, who without giving way to anymischievous madness but merely to tears and sorrow, gained as much fameas the most famous.""It seems to me," said Sancho, "that the knights who behaved in this wayhad provocation and cause for those follies and penances; but what causehas your worship for going mad? What lady has rejected you, or whatevidence have you found to prove that the lady Dulcinea del Toboso hasbeen trifling with Moor or Christian?""There is the point," replied Don Quixote, "and that is the beauty ofthis business of mine; no thanks to a knight-errant for going mad when hehas cause; the thing is to turn crazy without any provocation, and let mylady know, if I do this in the dry, what I would do in the moist;moreover I have abundant cause in the long separation I have endured frommy lady till death, Dulcinea del Toboso; for as thou didst hear thatshepherd Ambrosio say the other day, in absence all ills are felt andfeared; and so, friend Sancho, waste no time in advising me against sorare, so happy, and so unheard-of an imitation; mad I am, and mad I mustbe until thou returnest with the answer to a letter that I mean to sendby thee to my lady Dulcinea; and if it be such as my constancy deserves,my insanity and penance will come to an end; and if it be to the oppositeeffect, I shall become mad in earnest, and, being so, I shall suffer nomore; thus in whatever way she may answer I shall escape from thestruggle and affliction in which thou wilt leave me, enjoying in mysenses the boon thou bearest me, or as a madman not feeling the evil thoubringest me. But tell me, Sancho, hast thou got Mambrino's helmet safe?for I saw thee take it up from the ground when that ungrateful wretchtried to break it in pieces but could not, by which the fineness of itstemper may be seen."To which Sancho made answer, "By the living God, Sir Knight of the RuefulCountenance, I cannot endure or bear with patience some of the thingsthat your worship says; and from them I begin to suspect that all youtell me about chivalry, and winning kingdoms and empires, and givingislands, and bestowing other rewards and dignities after the custom ofknights-errant, must be all made up of wind and lies, and all pigments orfigments, or whatever we may call them; for what would anyone think thatheard your worship calling a barber's basin Mambrino's helmet withoutever seeing the mistake all this time, but that one who says andmaintains such things must have his brains addled? I have the basin in mysack all dinted, and I am taking it home to have it mended, to trim mybeard in it, if, by God's grace, I am allowed to see my wife and childrensome day or other.""Look here, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "by him thou didst swear by justnow I swear thou hast the most limited understanding that any squire inthe world has or ever had. Is it possible that all this time thou hastbeen going about with me thou hast never found out that all thingsbelonging to knights-errant seem to be illusions and nonsense andravings, and to go always by contraries? And not because it really is so,but because there is always a swarm of enchanters in attendance upon usthat change and alter everything with us, and turn things as they please,and according as they are disposed to aid or destroy us; thus what seemsto thee a barber's basin seems to me Mambrino's helmet, and to another itwill seem something else; and rare foresight it was in the sage who is onmy side to make what is really and truly Mambrine's helmet seem a basinto everybody, for, being held in such estimation as it is, all the worldwould pursue me to rob me of it; but when they see it is only a barber'sbasin they do not take the trouble to obtain it; as was plainly shown byhim who tried to break it, and left it on the ground without taking it,for, by my faith, had he known it he would never have left it behind.Keep it safe, my friend, for just now I have no need of it; indeed, Ishall have to take off all this armour and remain as naked as I was born,if I have a mind to follow Roland rather than Amadis in my penance."Thus talking they reached the foot of a high mountain which stood like anisolated peak among the others that surrounded it. Past its base thereflowed a gentle brook, all around it spread a meadow so green andluxuriant that it was a delight to the eyes to look upon it, and foresttrees in abundance, and shrubs and flowers, added to the charms of thespot. Upon this place the Knight of the Rueful Countenance fixed hischoice for the performance of his penance, and as he beheld it exclaimedin a loud voice as though he were out of his senses:"This is the place, oh, ye heavens, that I select and choose forbewailing the misfortune in which ye yourselves have plunged me: this isthe spot where the overflowings of mine eyes shall swell the waters ofyon little brook, and my deep and endless sighs shall stir unceasinglythe leaves of these mountain trees, in testimony and token of the pain mypersecuted heart is suffering. Oh, ye rural deities, whoever ye be thathaunt this lone spot, give ear to the complaint of a wretched lover whomlong absence and brooding jealousy have driven to bewail his fate amongthese wilds and complain of the hard heart of that fair and ungratefulone, the end and limit of all human beauty! Oh, ye wood nymphs anddryads, that dwell in the thickets of the forest, so may the nimblewanton satyrs by whom ye are vainly wooed never disturb your sweetrepose, help me to lament my hard fate or at least weary not at listeningto it! Oh, Dulcinea del Toboso, day of my night, glory of my pain, guideof my path, star of my fortune, so may Heaven grant thee in full all thouseekest of it, bethink thee of the place and condition to which absencefrom thee has brought me, and make that return in kindness that is due tomy fidelity! Oh, lonely trees, that from this day forward shall bear mecompany in my solitude, give me some sign by the gentle movement of yourboughs that my presence is not distasteful to you! Oh, thou, my squire,pleasant companion in my prosperous and adverse fortunes, fix well in thymemory what thou shalt see me do here, so that thou mayest relate andreport it to the sole cause of all," and so saying he dismounted fromRocinante, and in an instant relieved him of saddle and bridle, andgiving him a slap on the croup, said, "He gives thee freedom who isbereft of it himself, oh steed as excellent in deed as thou artunfortunate in thy lot; begone where thou wilt, for thou bearest writtenon thy forehead that neither Astolfo's hippogriff, nor the famed Frontinothat cost Bradamante so dear, could equal thee in speed."Seeing this Sancho said, "Good luck to him who has saved us the troubleof stripping the pack-saddle off Dapple! By my faith he would not havegone without a slap on the croup and something said in his praise; thoughif he were here I would not let anyone strip him, for there would be nooccasion, as he had nothing of the lover or victim of despair about him,inasmuch as his master, which I was while it was God's pleasure, wasnothing of the sort; and indeed, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, ifmy departure and your worship's madness are to come off in earnest, itwill be as well to saddle Rocinante again in order that he may supply thewant of Dapple, because it will save me time in going and returning: forif I go on foot I don't know when I shall get there or when I shall getback, as I am, in truth, a bad walker.""I declare, Sancho," returned Don Quixote, "it shall be as thou wilt, forthy plan does not seem to me a bad one, and three days hence thou wiltdepart, for I wish thee to observe in the meantime what I do and say forher sake, that thou mayest be able to tell it.""But what more have I to see besides what I have seen?" said Sancho."Much thou knowest about it!" said Don Quixote. "I have now got to tearup my garments, to scatter about my armour, knock my head against theserocks, and more of the same sort of thing, which thou must witness.""For the love of God," said Sancho, "be careful, your worship, how yougive yourself those knocks on the head, for you may come across such arock, and in such a way, that the very first may put an end to the wholecontrivance of this penance; and I should think, if indeed knocks on thehead seem necessary to you, and this business cannot be done withoutthem, you might be content--as the whole thing is feigned, andcounterfeit, and in joke--you might be content, I say, with giving themto yourself in the water, or against something soft, like cotton; andleave it all to me; for I'll tell my lady that your worship knocked yourhead against a point of rock harder than a diamond.""I thank thee for thy good intentions, friend Sancho," answered DonQuixote, "but I would have thee know that all these things I am doing arenot in joke, but very much in earnest, for anything else would be atransgression of the ordinances of chivalry, which forbid us to tell anylie whatever under the penalties due to apostasy; and to do one thinginstead of another is just the same as lying; so my knocks on the headmust be real, solid, and valid, without anything sophisticated orfanciful about them, and it will be needful to leave me some lint todress my wounds, since fortune has compelled us to do without the balsamwe lost.""It was worse losing the ass," replied Sancho, "for with him lint and allwere lost; but I beg of your worship not to remind me again of thataccursed liquor, for my soul, not to say my stomach, turns at hearing thevery name of it; and I beg of you, too, to reckon as past the three daysyou allowed me for seeing the mad things you do, for I take them as seenalready and pronounced upon, and I will tell wonderful stories to mylady; so write the letter and send me off at once, for I long to returnand take your worship out of this purgatory where I am leaving you.""Purgatory dost thou call it, Sancho?" said Don Quixote, "rather call ithell, or even worse if there be anything worse.""For one who is in hell," said Sancho, "nulla est retentio, as I haveheard say.""I do not understand what retentio means," said Don Quixote."Retentio," answered Sancho, "means that whoever is in hell never comesnor can come out of it, which will be the opposite case with your worshipor my legs will be idle, that is if I have spurs to enliven Rocinante:let me once get to El Toboso and into the presence of my lady Dulcinea,and I will tell her such things of the follies and madnesses (for it isall one) that your worship has done and is still doing, that I willmanage to make her softer than a glove though I find her harder than acork tree; and with her sweet and honeyed answer I will come back throughthe air like a witch, and take your worship out of this purgatory thatseems to be hell but is not, as there is hope of getting out of it;which, as I have said, those in hell have not, and I believe your worshipwill not say anything to the contrary.""That is true," said he of the Rueful Countenance, "but how shall wemanage to write the letter?""And the ass-colt order too," added Sancho."All shall be included," said Don Quixote; "and as there is no paper, itwould be well done to write it on the leaves of trees, as the ancientsdid, or on tablets of wax; though that would be as hard to find just nowas paper. But it has just occurred to me how it may be conveniently andeven more than conveniently written, and that is in the note-book thatbelonged to Cardenio, and thou wilt take care to have it copied on paper,in a good hand, at the first village thou comest to where there is aschoolmaster, or if not, any sacristan will copy it; but see thou give itnot to any notary to copy, for they write a law hand that Satan could notmake out.""But what is to be done about the signature?" said Sancho."The letters of Amadis were never signed," said Don Quixote."That is all very well," said Sancho, "but the order must needs besigned, and if it is copied they will say the signature is false, and Ishall be left without ass-colts.""The order shall go signed in the same book," said Don Quixote, "and onseeing it my niece will make no difficulty about obeying it; as to theloveletter thou canst put by way of signature, 'Yours till death, theKnight of the Rueful Countenance.' And it will be no great matter if itis in some other person's hand, for as well as I recollect Dulcinea canneither read nor write, nor in the whole course of her life has she seenhandwriting or letter of mine, for my love and hers have been alwaysplatonic, not going beyond a modest look, and even that so seldom that Ican safely swear I have not seen her four times in all these twelve yearsI have been loving her more than the light of these eyes that the earthwill one day devour; and perhaps even of those four times she has notonce perceived that I was looking at her: such is the retirement andseclusion in which her father Lorenzo Corchuelo and her mother AldonzaNogales have brought her up.""So, so!" said Sancho; "Lorenzo Corchuelo's daughter is the lady Dulcineadel Toboso, otherwise called Aldonza Lorenzo?""She it is," said Don Quixote, "and she it is that is worthy to be ladyof the whole universe.""I know her well," said Sancho, "and let me tell you she can fling acrowbar as well as the lustiest lad in all the town. Giver of all good!but she is a brave lass, and a right and stout one, and fit to behelpmate to any knight-errant that is or is to be, who may make her hislady: the whoreson wench, what sting she has and what a voice! I can tellyou one day she posted herself on the top of the belfry of the village tocall some labourers of theirs that were in a ploughed field of herfather's, and though they were better than half a league off they heardher as well as if they were at the foot of the tower; and the best of heris that she is not a bit prudish, for she has plenty of affability, andjokes with everybody, and has a grin and a jest for everything. So, SirKnight of the Rueful Countenance, I say you not only may and ought to domad freaks for her sake, but you have a good right to give way to despairand hang yourself; and no one who knows of it but will say you did well,though the devil should take you; and I wish I were on my road already,simply to see her, for it is many a day since I saw her, and she must bealtered by this time, for going about the fields always, and the sun andthe air spoil women's looks greatly. But I must own the truth to yourworship, Senor Don Quixote; until now I have been under a great mistake,for I believed truly and honestly that the lady Dulcinea must be someprincess your worship was in love with, or some person great enough todeserve the rich presents you have sent her, such as the Biscayan and thegalley slaves, and many more no doubt, for your worship must have wonmany victories in the time when I was not yet your squire. But all thingsconsidered, what good can it do the lady Aldonza Lorenzo, I mean the ladyDulcinea del Toboso, to have the vanquished your worship sends or willsend coming to her and going down on their knees before her? Because maybe when they came she'd be hackling flax or threshing on the threshingfloor, and they'd be ashamed to see her, and she'd laugh, or resent thepresent.""I have before now told thee many times, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "thatthou art a mighty great chatterer, and that with a blunt wit thou artalways striving at sharpness; but to show thee what a fool thou art andhow rational I am, I would have thee listen to a short story. Thou mustknow that a certain widow, fair, young, independent, and rich, and aboveall free and easy, fell in love with a sturdy strapping younglay-brother; his superior came to know of it, and one day said to theworthy widow by way of brotherly remonstrance, 'I am surprised, senora,and not without good reason, that a woman of such high standing, so fair,and so rich as you are, should have fallen in love with such a mean, low,stupid fellow as So-and-so, when in this house there are so many masters,graduates, and divinity students from among whom you might choose as ifthey were a lot of pears, saying this one I'll take, that I won't take;'but she replied to him with great sprightliness and candour, 'My dearsir, you are very much mistaken, and your ideas are very old-fashioned,if you think that I have made a bad choice in So-and-so, fool as heseems; because for all I want with him he knows as much and morephilosophy than Aristotle.' In the same way, Sancho, for all I want withDulcinea del Toboso she is just as good as the most exalted princess onearth. It is not to be supposed that all those poets who sang the praisesof ladies under the fancy names they give them, had any such mistresses.Thinkest thou that the Amarillises, the Phillises, the Sylvias, theDianas, the Galateas, the Filidas, and all the rest of them, that thebooks, the ballads, the barber's shops, the theatres are full of, werereally and truly ladies of flesh and blood, and mistresses of those thatglorify and have glorified them? Nothing of the kind; they only inventthem for the most part to furnish a subject for their verses, and thatthey may pass for lovers, or for men valiant enough to be so; and so itsuffices me to think and believe that the good Aldonza Lorenzo is fairand virtuous; and as to her pedigree it is very little matter, for no onewill examine into it for the purpose of conferring any order upon her,and I, for my part, reckon her the most exalted princess in the world.For thou shouldst know, Sancho, if thou dost not know, that two thingsalone beyond all others are incentives to love, and these are greatbeauty and a good name, and these two things are to be found in Dulcineain the highest degree, for in beauty no one equals her and in good namefew approach her; and to put the whole thing in a nutshell, I persuademyself that all I say is as I say, neither more nor less, and I pictureher in my imagination as I would have her to be, as well in beauty as incondition; Helen approaches her not nor does Lucretia come up to her, norany other of the famous women of times past, Greek, Barbarian, or Latin;and let each say what he will, for if in this I am taken to task by theignorant, I shall not be censured by the critical.""I say that your worship is entirely right," said Sancho, "and that I aman ass. But I know not how the name of ass came into my mouth, for a ropeis not to be mentioned in the house of him who has been hanged; but nowfor the letter, and then, God be with you, I am off."Don Quixote took out the note-book, and, retiring to one side, verydeliberately began to write the letter, and when he had finished it hecalled to Sancho, saying he wished to read it to him, so that he mightcommit it to memory, in case of losing it on the road; for with evilfortune like his anything might be apprehended. To which Sancho replied,"Write it two or three times there in the book and give it to me, and Iwill carry it very carefully, because to expect me to keep it in mymemory is all nonsense, for I have such a bad one that I often forget myown name; but for all that repeat it to me, as I shall like to hear it,for surely it will run as if it was in print.""Listen," said Don Quixote, "this is what it says:"DON QUIXOTE'S LETTER TO DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO"Sovereign and exalted Lady,--The pierced by the point of absence, thewounded to the heart's core, sends thee, sweetest Dulcinea del Toboso,the health that he himself enjoys not. If thy beauty despises me, if thyworth is not for me, if thy scorn is my affliction, though I besufficiently long-suffering, hardly shall I endure this anxiety, which,besides being oppressive, is protracted. My good squire Sancho willrelate to thee in full, fair ingrate, dear enemy, the condition to whichI am reduced on thy account: if it be thy pleasure to give me relief, Iam thine; if not, do as may be pleasing to thee; for by ending my life Ishall satisfy thy cruelty and my desire."Thine till death,"The Knight of the Rueful Countenance.""By the life of my father," said Sancho, when he heard the letter, "it isthe loftiest thing I ever heard. Body of me! how your worship sayseverything as you like in it! And how well you fit in 'The Knight of theRueful Countenance' into the signature. I declare your worship is indeedthe very devil, and there is nothing you don't know.""Everything is needed for the calling I follow," said Don Quixote."Now then," said Sancho, "let your worship put the order for the threeass-colts on the other side, and sign it very plainly, that they mayrecognise it at first sight.""With all my heart," said Don Quixote, and as he had written it he readit to this effect:"Mistress Niece,--By this first of ass-colts please pay to Sancho Panza,my squire, three of the five I left at home in your charge: said threeass-colts to be paid and delivered for the same number received here inhand, which upon this and upon his receipt shall be duly paid. Done inthe heart of the Sierra Morena, the twenty-seventh of August of thispresent year.""That will do," said Sancho; "now let your worship sign it.""There is no need to sign it," said Don Quixote, "but merely to put myflourish, which is the same as a signature, and enough for three asses,or even three hundred.""I can trust your worship," returned Sancho; "let me go and saddleRocinante, and be ready to give me your blessing, for I mean to go atonce without seeing the fooleries your worship is going to do; I'll say Isaw you do so many that she will not want any more.""At any rate, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "I should like--and there isreason for it--I should like thee, I say, to see me stripped to the skinand performing a dozen or two of insanities, which I can get done in lessthan half an hour; for having seen them with thine own eyes, thou canstthen safely swear to the rest that thou wouldst add; and I promise theethou wilt not tell of as many as I mean to perform.""For the love of God, master mine," said Sancho, "let me not see yourworship stripped, for it will sorely grieve me, and I shall not be ableto keep from tears, and my head aches so with all I shed last night forDapple, that I am not fit to begin any fresh weeping; but if it is yourworship's pleasure that I should see some insanities, do them in yourclothes, short ones, and such as come readiest to hand; for I myself wantnothing of the sort, and, as I have said, it will be a saving of time formy return, which will be with the news your worship desires and deserves.If not, let the lady Dulcinea look to it; if she does not answerreasonably, I swear as solemnly as I can that I will fetch a fair answerout of her stomach with kicks and cuffs; for why should it be borne thata knight-errant as famous as your worship should go mad without rhyme orreason for a--? Her ladyship had best not drive me to say it, for by GodI will speak out and let off everything cheap, even if it doesn't sell: Iam pretty good at that! she little knows me; faith, if she knew me she'dbe in awe of me.""In faith, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "to all appearance thou art nosounder in thy wits than I.""I am not so mad," answered Sancho, "but I am more peppery; but apartfrom all this, what has your worship to eat until I come back? Will yousally out on the road like Cardenio to force it from the shepherds?""Let not that anxiety trouble thee," replied Don Quixote, "for even if Ihad it I should not eat anything but the herbs and the fruits which thismeadow and these trees may yield me; the beauty of this business of minelies in not eating, and in performing other mortifications.""Do you know what I am afraid of?" said Sancho upon this; "that I shallnot be able to find my way back to this spot where I am leaving you, itis such an out-of-the-way place.""Observe the landmarks well," said Don Quixote, "for I will try not to gofar from this neighbourhood, and I will even take care to mount thehighest of these rocks to see if I can discover thee returning; however,not to miss me and lose thyself, the best plan will be to cut somebranches of the broom that is so abundant about here, and as thou goestto lay them at intervals until thou hast come out upon the plain; thesewill serve thee, after the fashion of the clue in the labyrinth ofTheseus, as marks and signs for finding me on thy return.""So I will," said Sancho Panza, and having cut some, he asked hismaster's blessing, and not without many tears on both sides, took hisleave of him, and mounting Rocinante, of whom Don Quixote charged himearnestly to have as much care as of his own person, he set out for theplain, strewing at intervals the branches of broom as his master hadrecommended him; and so he went his way, though Don Quixote stillentreated him to see him do were it only a couple of mad acts. He had notgone a hundred paces, however, when he returned and said:"I must say, senor, your worship said quite right, that in order to beable to swear without a weight on my conscience that I had seen you domad things, it would be well for me to see if it were only one; though inyour worship's remaining here I have seen a very great one.""Did I not tell thee so?" said Don Quixote. "Wait, Sancho, and I will dothem in the saying of a credo," and pulling off his breeches in all hastehe stripped himself to his skin and his shirt, and then, without moreado, he cut a couple of gambados in the air, and a couple of somersaults,heels over head, making such a display that, not to see it a second time,Sancho wheeled Rocinante round, and felt easy, and satisfied in his mindthat he could swear he had left his master mad; and so we will leave himto follow his road until his return, which was a quick one.