PART I - CHAPTER XXXVII.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE STORY OF THE FAMOUS PRINCESS MICOMICONA, WITHOTHER DROLL ADVENTURESTo all this Sancho listened with no little sorrow at heart to see how hishopes of dignity were fading away and vanishing in smoke, and how thefair Princess Micomicona had turned into Dorothea, and the giant into DonFernando, while his master was sleeping tranquilly, totally unconsciousof all that had come to pass. Dorothea was unable to persuade herselfthat her present happiness was not all a dream; Cardenio was in a similarstate of mind, and Luscinda's thoughts ran in the same direction. DonFernando gave thanks to Heaven for the favour shown to him and for havingbeen rescued from the intricate labyrinth in which he had been brought sonear the destruction of his good name and of his soul; and in shorteverybody in the inn was full of contentment and satisfaction at thehappy issue of such a complicated and hopeless business. The curate as asensible man made sound reflections upon the whole affair, andcongratulated each upon his good fortune; but the one that was in thehighest spirits and good humour was the landlady, because of the promiseCardenio and the curate had given her to pay for all the losses anddamage she had sustained through Don Quixote's means. Sancho, as has beenalready said, was the only one who was distressed, unhappy, and dejected;and so with a long face he went in to his master, who had just awoke, andsaid to him:"Sir Rueful Countenance, your worship may as well sleep on as much as youlike, without troubling yourself about killing any giant or restoring herkingdom to the princess; for that is all over and settled now.""I should think it was," replied Don Quixote, "for I have had the mostprodigious and stupendous battle with the giant that I ever rememberhaving had all the days of my life; and with one back-stroke-swish!--Ibrought his head tumbling to the ground, and so much blood gushed forthfrom him that it ran in rivulets over the earth like water.""Like red wine, your worship had better say," replied Sancho; "for Iwould have you know, if you don't know it, that the dead giant is ahacked wine-skin, and the blood four-and-twenty gallons of red wine thatit had in its belly, and the cut-off head is the bitch that bore me; andthe devil take it all.""What art thou talking about, fool?" said Don Quixote; "art thou in thysenses?""Let your worship get up," said Sancho, "and you will see the nicebusiness you have made of it, and what we have to pay; and you will seethe queen turned into a private lady called Dorothea, and other thingsthat will astonish you, if you understand them.""I shall not be surprised at anything of the kind," returned Don Quixote;"for if thou dost remember the last time we were here I told thee thateverything that happened here was a matter of enchantment, and it wouldbe no wonder if it were the same now.""I could believe all that," replied Sancho, "if my blanketing was thesame sort of thing also; only it wasn't, but real and genuine; for I sawthe landlord, Who is here to-day, holding one end of the blanket andjerking me up to the skies very neatly and smartly, and with as muchlaughter as strength; and when it comes to be a case of knowing people, Ihold for my part, simple and sinner as I am, that there is no enchantmentabout it at all, but a great deal of bruising and bad luck.""Well, well, God will give a remedy," said Don Quixote; "hand me myclothes and let me go out, for I want to see these transformations andthings thou speakest of."Sancho fetched him his clothes; and while he was dressing, the curategave Don Fernando and the others present an account of Don Quixote'smadness and of the stratagem they had made use of to withdraw him fromthat Pena Pobre where he fancied himself stationed because of his lady'sscorn. He described to them also nearly all the adventures that Sanchohad mentioned, at which they marvelled and laughed not a little, thinkingit, as all did, the strangest form of madness a crazy intellect could becapable of. But now, the curate said, that the lady Dorothea's goodfortune prevented her from proceeding with their purpose, it would benecessary to devise or discover some other way of getting him home.Cardenio proposed to carry out the scheme they had begun, and suggestedthat Luscinda would act and support Dorothea's part sufficiently well."No," said Don Fernando, "that must not be, for I want Dorothea to followout this idea of hers; and if the worthy gentleman's village is not veryfar off, I shall be happy if I can do anything for his relief.""It is not more than two days' journey from this," said the curate."Even if it were more," said Don Fernando, "I would gladly travel so farfor the sake of doing so good a work."At this moment Don Quixote came out in full panoply, with Mambrino'shelmet, all dinted as it was, on his head, his buckler on his arm, andleaning on his staff or pike. The strange figure he presented filled DonFernando and the rest with amazement as they contemplated his lean yellowface half a league long, his armour of all sorts, and the solemnity ofhis deportment. They stood silent waiting to see what he would say, andhe, fixing his eyes on the air Dorothea, addressed her with great gravityand composure:"I am informed, fair lady, by my squire here that your greatness has beenannihilated and your being abolished, since, from a queen and lady ofhigh degree as you used to be, you have been turned into a privatemaiden. If this has been done by the command of the magician king yourfather, through fear that I should not afford you the aid you need andare entitled to, I may tell you he did not know and does not know halfthe mass, and was little versed in the annals of chivalry; for, if he hadread and gone through them as attentively and deliberately as I have, hewould have found at every turn that knights of less renown than mine haveaccomplished things more difficult: it is no great matter to kill a whelpof a giant, however arrogant he may be; for it is not many hours since Imyself was engaged with one, and-I will not speak of it, that they maynot say I am lying; time, however, that reveals all, will tell the talewhen we least expect it.""You were engaged with a couple of wine-skins, and not a giant," said thelandlord at this; but Don Fernando told him to hold his tongue and on noaccount interrupt Don Quixote, who continued, "I say in conclusion, highand disinherited lady, that if your father has brought about thismetamorphosis in your person for the reason I have mentioned, you oughtnot to attach any importance to it; for there is no peril on earththrough which my sword will not force a way, and with it, before manydays are over, I will bring your enemy's head to the ground and place onyours the crown of your kingdom."Don Quixote said no more, and waited for the reply of the princess, whoaware of Don Fernando's determination to carry on the deception until DonQuixote had been conveyed to his home, with great ease of manner andgravity made answer, "Whoever told you, valiant Knight of the RuefulCountenance, that I had undergone any change or transformation did nottell you the truth, for I am the same as I was yesterday. It is true thatcertain strokes of good fortune, that have given me more than I couldhave hoped for, have made some alteration in me; but I have not thereforeceased to be what I was before, or to entertain the same desire I havehad all through of availing myself of the might of your valiant andinvincible arm. And so, senor, let your goodness reinstate the fatherthat begot me in your good opinion, and be assured that he was a wise andprudent man, since by his craft he found out such a sure and easy way ofremedying my misfortune; for I believe, senor, that had it not been foryou I should never have lit upon the good fortune I now possess; and inthis I am saying what is perfectly true; as most of these gentlemen whoare present can fully testify. All that remains is to set out on ourjourney to-morrow, for to-day we could not make much way; and for therest of the happy result I am looking forward to, I trust to God and thevalour of your heart."So said the sprightly Dorothea, and on hearing her Don Quixote turned toSancho, and said to him, with an angry air, "I declare now, littleSancho, thou art the greatest little villain in Spain. Say, thief andvagabond, hast thou not just now told me that this princess had beenturned into a maiden called Dorothea, and that the head which I ampersuaded I cut off from a giant was the bitch that bore thee, and othernonsense that put me in the greatest perplexity I have ever been in allmy life? I vow" (and here he looked to heaven and ground his teeth) "Ihave a mind to play the mischief with thee, in a way that will teachsense for the future to all lying squires of knights-errant in theworld.""Let your worship be calm, senor," returned Sancho, "for it may well bethat I have been mistaken as to the change of the lady princessMicomicona; but as to the giant's head, or at least as to the piercing ofthe wine-skins, and the blood being red wine, I make no mistake, as sureas there is a God; because the wounded skins are there at the head ofyour worship's bed, and the wine has made a lake of the room; if not youwill see when the eggs come to be fried; I mean when his worship thelandlord calls for all the damages: for the rest, I am heartily glad thather ladyship the queen is as she was, for it concerns me as much asanyone.""I tell thee again, Sancho, thou art a fool," said Don Quixote; "forgiveme, and that will do.""That will do," said Don Fernando; "let us say no more about it; and asher ladyship the princess proposes to set out to-morrow because it is toolate to-day, so be it, and we will pass the night in pleasantconversation, and to-morrow we will all accompany Senor Don Quixote; forwe wish to witness the valiant and unparalleled achievements he is aboutto perform in the course of this mighty enterprise which he hasundertaken.""It is I who shall wait upon and accompany you," said Don Quixote; "and Iam much gratified by the favour that is bestowed upon me, and the goodopinion entertained of me, which I shall strive to justify or it shallcost me my life, or even more, if it can possibly cost me more."Many were the compliments and expressions of politeness that passedbetween Don Quixote and Don Fernando; but they were brought to an end bya traveller who at this moment entered the inn, and who seemed from hisattire to be a Christian lately come from the country of the Moors, forhe was dressed in a short-skirted coat of blue cloth with half-sleevesand without a collar; his breeches were also of blue cloth, and his capof the same colour, and he wore yellow buskins and had a Moorish cutlassslung from a baldric across his breast. Behind him, mounted upon an ass,there came a woman dressed in Moorish fashion, with her face veiled and ascarf on her head, and wearing a little brocaded cap, and a mantle thatcovered her from her shoulders to her feet. The man was of a robust andwell-proportioned frame, in age a little over forty, rather swarthy incomplexion, with long moustaches and a full beard, and, in short, hisappearance was such that if he had been well dressed he would have beentaken for a person of quality and good birth. On entering he asked for aroom, and when they told him there was none in the inn he seemeddistressed, and approaching her who by her dress seemed to be a Moor heher down from saddle in his arms. Luscinda, Dorothea, the landlady, herdaughter and Maritornes, attracted by the strange, and to them entirelynew costume, gathered round her; and Dorothea, who was always kindly,courteous, and quick-witted, perceiving that both she and the man who hadbrought her were annoyed at not finding a room, said to her, "Do not beput out, senora, by the discomfort and want of luxuries here, for it isthe way of road-side inns to be without them; still, if you will bepleased to share our lodging with us (pointing to Luscinda) perhaps youwill have found worse accommodation in the course of your journey."To this the veiled lady made no reply; all she did was to rise from herseat, crossing her hands upon her bosom, bowing her head and bending herbody as a sign that she returned thanks. From her silence they concludedthat she must be a Moor and unable to speak a Christian tongue.At this moment the captive came up, having been until now otherwiseengaged, and seeing that they all stood round his companion and that shemade no reply to what they addressed to her, he said, "Ladies, thisdamsel hardly understands my language and can speak none but that of herown country, for which reason she does not and cannot answer what hasbeen asked of her.""Nothing has been asked of her," returned Luscinda; "she has only beenoffered our company for this evening and a share of the quarters weoccupy, where she shall be made as comfortable as the circumstancesallow, with the good-will we are bound to show all strangers that standin need of it, especially if it be a woman to whom the service isrendered.""On her part and my own, senora," replied the captive, "I kiss yourhands, and I esteem highly, as I ought, the favour you have offered,which, on such an occasion and coming from persons of your appearance,is, it is plain to see, a very great one.""Tell me, senor," said Dorothea, "is this lady a Christian or a Moor? forher dress and her silence lead us to imagine that she is what we couldwish she was not.""In dress and outwardly," said he, "she is a Moor, but at heart she is athoroughly good Christian, for she has the greatest desire to becomeone.""Then she has not been baptised?" returned Luscinda."There has been no opportunity for that," replied the captive, "since sheleft Algiers, her native country and home; and up to the present she hasnot found herself in any such imminent danger of death as to make itnecessary to baptise her before she has been instructed in all theceremonies our holy mother Church ordains; but, please God, ere long sheshall be baptised with the solemnity befitting her which is higher thanher dress or mine indicates."By these words he excited a desire in all who heard him, to know who theMoorish lady and the captive were, but no one liked to ask just then,seeing that it was a fitter moment for helping them to rest themselvesthan for questioning them about their lives. Dorothea took the Moorishlady by the hand and leading her to a seat beside herself, requested herto remove her veil. She looked at the captive as if to ask him what theymeant and what she was to do. He said to her in Arabic that they askedher to take off her veil, and thereupon she removed it and disclosed acountenance so lovely, that to Dorothea she seemed more beautiful thanLuscinda, and to Luscinda more beautiful than Dorothea, and all thebystanders felt that if any beauty could compare with theirs it was theMoorish lady's, and there were even those who were inclined to give itsomewhat the preference. And as it is the privilege and charm of beautyto win the heart and secure good-will, all forthwith became eager to showkindness and attention to the lovely Moor.Don Fernando asked the captive what her name was, and he replied that itwas Lela Zoraida; but the instant she heard him, she guessed what theChristian had asked, and said hastily, with some displeasure and energy,"No, not Zoraida; Maria, Maria!" giving them to understand that she wascalled "Maria" and not "Zoraida." These words, and the touchingearnestness with which she uttered them, drew more than one tear fromsome of the listeners, particularly the women, who are by naturetender-hearted and compassionate. Luscinda embraced her affectionately,saying, "Yes, yes, Maria, Maria," to which the Moor replied, "Yes, yes,Maria; Zoraida macange," which means "not Zoraida."Night was now approaching, and by the orders of those who accompanied DonFernando the landlord had taken care and pains to prepare for them thebest supper that was in his power. The hour therefore having arrived theyall took their seats at a long table like a refectory one, for round orsquare table there was none in the inn, and the seat of honour at thehead of it, though he was for refusing it, they assigned to Don Quixote,who desired the lady Micomicona to place herself by his side, as he washer protector. Luscinda and Zoraida took their places next her, oppositeto them were Don Fernando and Cardenio, and next the captive and theother gentlemen, and by the side of the ladies, the curate and thebarber. And so they supped in high enjoyment, which was increased whenthey observed Don Quixote leave off eating, and, moved by an impulse likethat which made him deliver himself at such length when he supped withthe goatherds, begin to address them:"Verily, gentlemen, if we reflect upon it, great and marvellous are thethings they see, who make profession of the order of knight-errantry.Say, what being is there in this world, who entering the gate of thiscastle at this moment, and seeing us as we are here, would suppose orimagine us to be what we are? Who would say that this lady who is besideme was the great queen that we all know her to be, or that I am thatKnight of the Rueful Countenance, trumpeted far and wide by the mouth ofFame? Now, there can be no doubt that this art and calling surpasses allthose that mankind has invented, and is the more deserving of being heldin honour in proportion as it is the more exposed to peril. Away withthose who assert that letters have the preeminence over arms; I will tellthem, whosoever they may be, that they know not what they say. For thereason which such persons commonly assign, and upon which they chieflyrest, is, that the labours of the mind are greater than those of thebody, and that arms give employment to the body alone; as if the callingwere a porter's trade, for which nothing more is required than sturdystrength; or as if, in what we who profess them call arms, there were notincluded acts of vigour for the execution of which high intelligence isrequisite; or as if the soul of the warrior, when he has an army, or thedefence of a city under his care, did not exert itself as much by mind asby body. Nay; see whether by bodily strength it be possible to learn ordivine the intentions of the enemy, his plans, stratagems, or obstacles,or to ward off impending mischief; for all these are the work of themind, and in them the body has no share whatever. Since, therefore, armshave need of the mind, as much as letters, let us see now which of thetwo minds, that of the man of letters or that of the warrior, has most todo; and this will be seen by the end and goal that each seeks to attain;for that purpose is the more estimable which has for its aim the noblerobject. The end and goal of letters--I am not speaking now of divineletters, the aim of which is to raise and direct the soul to Heaven; forwith an end so infinite no other can be compared--I speak of humanletters, the end of which is to establish distributive justice, give toevery man that which is his, and see and take care that good laws areobserved: an end undoubtedly noble, lofty, and deserving of high praise,but not such as should be given to that sought by arms, which have fortheir end and object peace, the greatest boon that men can desire in thislife. The first good news the world and mankind received was that whichthe angels announced on the night that was our day, when they sang in theair, 'Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men ofgood-will;' and the salutation which the great Master of heaven and earthtaught his disciples and chosen followers when they entered any house,was to say, 'Peace be on this house;' and many other times he said tothem, 'My peace I give unto you, my peace I leave you, peace be withyou;' a jewel and a precious gift given and left by such a hand: a jewelwithout which there can be no happiness either on earth or in heaven.This peace is the true end of war; and war is only another name for arms.This, then, being admitted, that the end of war is peace, and that so farit has the advantage of the end of letters, let us turn to the bodilylabours of the man of letters, and those of him who follows theprofession of arms, and see which are the greater."Don Quixote delivered his discourse in such a manner and in such correctlanguage, that for the time being he made it impossible for any of hishearers to consider him a madman; on the contrary, as they were mostlygentlemen, to whom arms are an appurtenance by birth, they listened tohim with great pleasure as he continued: "Here, then, I say is what thestudent has to undergo; first of all poverty: not that all are poor, butto put the case as strongly as possible: and when I have said that heendures poverty, I think nothing more need be said about his hardfortune, for he who is poor has no share of the good things of life. Thispoverty he suffers from in various ways, hunger, or cold, or nakedness,or all together; but for all that it is not so extreme but that he getssomething to eat, though it may be at somewhat unseasonable hours andfrom the leavings of the rich; for the greatest misery of the student iswhat they themselves call 'going out for soup,' and there is always someneighbour's brazier or hearth for them, which, if it does not warm, atleast tempers the cold to them, and lastly, they sleep comfortably atnight under a roof. I will not go into other particulars, as for examplewant of shirts, and no superabundance of shoes, thin and threadbaregarments, and gorging themselves to surfeit in their voracity when goodluck has treated them to a banquet of some sort. By this road that I havedescribed, rough and hard, stumbling here, falling there, getting upagain to fall again, they reach the rank they desire, and that onceattained, we have seen many who have passed these Syrtes and Scyllas andCharybdises, as if borne flying on the wings of favouring fortune; wehave seen them, I say, ruling and governing the world from a chair, theirhunger turned into satiety, their cold into comfort, their nakedness intofine raiment, their sleep on a mat into repose in holland and damask, thejustly earned reward of their virtue; but, contrasted and compared withwhat the warrior undergoes, all they have undergone falls far short ofit, as I am now about to show."