PART II - CHAPTER XX.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　WHEREIN AN ACCOUNT IS GIVEN OF THE WEDDING OF CAMACHO THE RICH, TOGETHERWITH THE INCIDENT OF BASILIO THE POORScarce had the fair Aurora given bright Phoebus time to dry the liquidpearls upon her golden locks with the heat of his fervent rays, when DonQuixote, shaking off sloth from his limbs, sprang to his feet and calledto his squire Sancho, who was still snoring; seeing which Don Quixote erehe roused him thus addressed him: "Happy thou, above all the dwellers onthe face of the earth, that, without envying or being envied, sleepestwith tranquil mind, and that neither enchanters persecute norenchantments affright. Sleep, I say, and will say a hundred times,without any jealous thoughts of thy mistress to make thee keep ceaselessvigils, or any cares as to how thou art to pay the debts thou owest, orfind to-morrow's food for thyself and thy needy little family, tointerfere with thy repose. Ambition breaks not thy rest, nor doth thisworld's empty pomp disturb thee, for the utmost reach of thy anxiety isto provide for thy ass, since upon my shoulders thou hast laid thesupport of thyself, the counterpoise and burden that nature and customhave imposed upon masters. The servant sleeps and the master lies awakethinking how he is to feed him, advance him, and reward him. The distressof seeing the sky turn brazen, and withhold its needful moisture from theearth, is not felt by the servant but by the master, who in time ofscarcity and famine must support him who has served him in times ofplenty and abundance."To all this Sancho made no reply because he was asleep, nor would he havewakened up so soon as he did had not Don Quixote brought him to hissenses with the butt of his lance. He awoke at last, drowsy and lazy, andcasting his eyes about in every direction, observed, "There comes, if Idon't mistake, from the quarter of that arcade a steam and a smell agreat deal more like fried rashers than galingale or thyme; a weddingthat begins with smells like that, by my faith, ought to be plentiful andunstinting.""Have done, thou glutton," said Don Quixote; "come, let us go and witnessthis bridal, and see what the rejected Basilio does.""Let him do what he likes," returned Sancho; "be he not poor, he wouldmarry Quiteria. To make a grand match for himself, and he without afarthing; is there nothing else? Faith, senor, it's my opinion the poorman should be content with what he can get, and not go looking fordainties in the bottom of the sea. I will bet my arm that Camacho couldbury Basilio in reals; and if that be so, as no doubt it is, what a foolQuiteria would be to refuse the fine dresses and jewels Camacho must havegiven her and will give her, and take Basilio's bar-throwing andsword-play. They won't give a pint of wine at the tavern for a good castof the bar or a neat thrust of the sword. Talents and accomplishmentsthat can't be turned into money, let Count Dirlos have them; but whensuch gifts fall to one that has hard cash, I wish my condition of lifewas as becoming as they are. On a good foundation you can raise a goodbuilding, and the best foundation in the world is money.""For God's sake, Sancho," said Don Quixote here, "stop that harangue; itis my belief, if thou wert allowed to continue all thou beginnest everyinstant, thou wouldst have no time left for eating or sleeping; for thouwouldst spend it all in talking.""If your worship had a good memory," replied Sancho, "you would rememberthe articles of our agreement before we started from home this last time;one of them was that I was to be let say all I liked, so long as it wasnot against my neighbour or your worship's authority; and so far, itseems to me, I have not broken the said article.""I remember no such article, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "and even if itwere so, I desire you to hold your tongue and come along; for theinstruments we heard last night are already beginning to enliven thevalleys again, and no doubt the marriage will take place in the cool ofthe morning, and not in the heat of the afternoon."Sancho did as his master bade him, and putting the saddle on Rocinanteand the pack-saddle on Dapple, they both mounted and at a leisurely paceentered the arcade. The first thing that presented itself to Sancho'seyes was a whole ox spitted on a whole elm tree, and in the fire at whichit was to be roasted there was burning a middling-sized mountain offaggots, and six stewpots that stood round the blaze had not been made inthe ordinary mould of common pots, for they were six half wine-jars, eachfit to hold the contents of a slaughter-house; they swallowed up wholesheep and hid them away in their insides without showing any more sign ofthem than if they were pigeons. Countless were the hares ready skinnedand the plucked fowls that hung on the trees for burial in the pots,numberless the wildfowl and game of various sorts suspended from thebranches that the air might keep them cool. Sancho counted more thansixty wine skins of over six gallons each, and all filled, as it provedafterwards, with generous wines. There were, besides, piles of thewhitest bread, like the heaps of corn one sees on the threshing-floors.There was a wall made of cheeses arranged like open brick-work, and twocauldrons full of oil, bigger than those of a dyer's shop, served forcooking fritters, which when fried were taken out with two mightyshovels, and plunged into another cauldron of prepared honey that stoodclose by. Of cooks and cook-maids there were over fifty, all clean,brisk, and blithe. In the capacious belly of the ox were a dozen softlittle sucking-pigs, which, sewn up there, served to give it tendernessand flavour. The spices of different kinds did not seem to have beenbought by the pound but by the quarter, and all lay open to view in agreat chest. In short, all the preparations made for the wedding were inrustic style, but abundant enough to feed an army.Sancho observed all, contemplated all, and everything won his heart. Thefirst to captivate and take his fancy were the pots, out of which hewould have very gladly helped himself to a moderate pipkinful; then thewine skins secured his affections; and lastly, the produce of thefrying-pans, if, indeed, such imposing cauldrons may be calledfrying-pans; and unable to control himself or bear it any longer, heapproached one of the busy cooks and civilly but hungrily beggedpermission to soak a scrap of bread in one of the pots; to which the cookmade answer, "Brother, this is not a day on which hunger is to have anysway, thanks to the rich Camacho; get down and look about for a ladle andskim off a hen or two, and much good may they do you.""I don't see one," said Sancho."Wait a bit," said the cook; "sinner that I am! how particular andbashful you are!" and so saying, he seized a bucket and plunging it intoone of the half jars took up three hens and a couple of geese, and saidto Sancho, "Fall to, friend, and take the edge off your appetite withthese skimmings until dinner-time comes.""I have nothing to put them in," said Sancho."Well then," said the cook, "take spoon and all; for Camacho's wealth andhappiness furnish everything."While Sancho fared thus, Don Quixote was watching the entrance, at oneend of the arcade, of some twelve peasants, all in holiday and galadress, mounted on twelve beautiful mares with rich handsome fieldtrappings and a number of little bells attached to their petrals, who,marshalled in regular order, ran not one but several courses over themeadow, with jubilant shouts and cries of "Long live Camacho andQuiteria! he as rich as she is fair; and she the fairest on earth!"Hearing this, Don Quixote said to himself, "It is easy to see these folkhave never seen my Dulcinea del Toboso; for if they had they would bemore moderate in their praises of this Quiteria of theirs."Shortly after this, several bands of dancers of various sorts began toenter the arcade at different points, and among them one of sword-dancerscomposed of some four-and-twenty lads of gallant and high-spirited mien,clad in the finest and whitest of linen, and with handkerchiefsembroidered in various colours with fine silk; and one of those on themares asked an active youth who led them if any of the dancers had beenwounded. "As yet, thank God, no one has been wounded," said he, "we areall safe and sound;" and he at once began to execute complicated figureswith the rest of his comrades, with so many turns and so great dexterity,that although Don Quixote was well used to see dances of the same kind,he thought he had never seen any so good as this. He also admired anotherthat came in composed of fair young maidens, none of whom seemed to beunder fourteen or over eighteen years of age, all clad in green stuff,with their locks partly braided, partly flowing loose, but all of suchbright gold as to vie with the sunbeams, and over them they wore garlandsof jessamine, roses, amaranth, and honeysuckle. At their head were avenerable old man and an ancient dame, more brisk and active, however,than might have been expected from their years. The notes of a Zamorabagpipe accompanied them, and with modesty in their countenances and intheir eyes, and lightness in their feet, they looked the best dancers inthe world.Following these there came an artistic dance of the sort they call"speaking dances." It was composed of eight nymphs in two files, with thegod Cupid leading one and Interest the other, the former furnished withwings, bow, quiver and arrows, the latter in a rich dress of gold andsilk of divers colours. The nymphs that followed Love bore their nameswritten on white parchment in large letters on their backs. "Poetry" wasthe name of the first, "Wit" of the second, "Birth" of the third, and"Valour" of the fourth. Those that followed Interest were distinguishedin the same way; the badge of the first announced "Liberality," that ofthe second "Largess," the third "Treasure," and the fourth "PeacefulPossession." In front of them all came a wooden castle drawn by four wildmen, all clad in ivy and hemp stained green, and looking so natural thatthey nearly terrified Sancho. On the front of the castle and on each ofthe four sides of its frame it bore the inscription "Castle of Caution."Four skillful tabor and flute players accompanied them, and the dancehaving been opened, Cupid, after executing two figures, raised his eyesand bent his bow against a damsel who stood between the turrets of thecastle, and thus addressed her: I am the mighty God whose sway Is potent over land and sea. The heavens above us own me; nay, The shades below acknowledge me. I know not fear, I have my will, Whate'er my whim or fancy be; For me there's no impossible, I order, bind, forbid, set free. Having concluded the stanza he discharged an arrow at the top of thecastle, and went back to his place. Interest then came forward and wentthrough two more figures, and as soon as the tabors ceased, he said: But mightier than Love am I, Though Love it be that leads me on, Than mine no lineage is more high, Or older, underneath the sun. To use me rightly few know how, To act without me fewer still, For I am Interest, and I vow For evermore to do thy will. Interest retired, and Poetry came forward, and when she had gone throughher figures like the others, fixing her eyes on the damsel of the castle,she said: With many a fanciful conceit, Fair Lady, winsome Poesy Her soul, an offering at thy feet, Presents in sonnets unto thee. If thou my homage wilt not scorn, Thy fortune, watched by envious eyes, On wings of poesy upborne Shall be exalted to the skies. Poetry withdrew, and on the side of Interest Liberality advanced, andafter having gone through her figures, said: To give, while shunning each extreme, The sparing hand, the over-free, Therein consists, so wise men deem, The virtue Liberality. But thee, fair lady, to enrich, Myself a prodigal I'll prove, A vice not wholly shameful, which May find its fair excuse in love. In the same manner all the characters of the two bands advanced andretired, and each executed its figures, and delivered its verses, some ofthem graceful, some burlesque, but Don Quixote's memory (though he had anexcellent one) only carried away those that have been just quoted. Allthen mingled together, forming chains and breaking off again withgraceful, unconstrained gaiety; and whenever Love passed in front of thecastle he shot his arrows up at it, while Interest broke gilded pelletsagainst it. At length, after they had danced a good while, Interest drewout a great purse, made of the skin of a large brindled cat and to allappearance full of money, and flung it at the castle, and with the forceof the blow the boards fell asunder and tumbled down, leaving the damselexposed and unprotected. Interest and the characters of his bandadvanced, and throwing a great chain of gold over her neck pretended totake her and lead her away captive, on seeing which, Love and hissupporters made as though they would release her, the whole action beingto the accompaniment of the tabors and in the form of a regular dance.The wild men made peace between them, and with great dexterity readjustedand fixed the boards of the castle, and the damsel once more ensconcedherself within; and with this the dance wound up, to the great enjoymentof the beholders.Don Quixote asked one of the nymphs who it was that had composed andarranged it. She replied that it was a beneficiary of the town who had anice taste in devising things of the sort. "I will lay a wager," said DonQuixote, "that the same bachelor or beneficiary is a greater friend ofCamacho's than of Basilio's, and that he is better at satire than atvespers; he has introduced the accomplishments of Basilio and the richesof Camacho very neatly into the dance." Sancho Panza, who was listeningto all this, exclaimed, "The king is my cock; I stick to Camacho." "It iseasy to see thou art a clown, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and one of thatsort that cry 'Long life to the conqueror.'""I don't know of what sort I am," returned Sancho, "but I know very wellI'll never get such elegant skimmings off Basilio's pots as these I havegot off Camacho's;" and he showed him the bucketful of geese and hens,and seizing one began to eat with great gaiety and appetite, saying, "Afig for the accomplishments of Basilio! As much as thou hast so much artthou worth, and as much as thou art worth so much hast thou. As agrandmother of mine used to say, there are only two families in theworld, the Haves and the Haven'ts; and she stuck to the Haves; and tothis day, Senor Don Quixote, people would sooner feel the pulse of'Have,' than of 'Know;' an ass covered with gold looks better than ahorse with a pack-saddle. So once more I say I stick to Camacho, thebountiful skimmings of whose pots are geese and hens, hares and rabbits;but of Basilio's, if any ever come to hand, or even to foot, they'll beonly rinsings.""Hast thou finished thy harangue, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Of course Ihave finished it," replied Sancho, "because I see your worship takesoffence at it; but if it was not for that, there was work enough cut outfor three days.""God grant I may see thee dumb before I die, Sancho," said Don Quixote."At the rate we are going," said Sancho, "I'll be chewing clay beforeyour worship dies; and then, maybe, I'll be so dumb that I'll not say aword until the end of the world, or, at least, till the day of judgment.""Even should that happen, O Sancho," said Don Quixote, "thy silence willnever come up to all thou hast talked, art talking, and wilt talk all thylife; moreover, it naturally stands to reason, that my death will comebefore thine; so I never expect to see thee dumb, not even when thou artdrinking or sleeping, and that is the utmost I can say.""In good faith, senor," replied Sancho, "there's no trusting thatfleshless one, I mean Death, who devours the lamb as soon as the sheep,and, as I have heard our curate say, treads with equal foot upon thelofty towers of kings and the lowly huts of the poor. That lady is moremighty than dainty, she is no way squeamish, she devours all and is readyfor all, and fills her alforjas with people of all sorts, ages, andranks. She is no reaper that sleeps out the noontide; at all times she isreaping and cutting down, as well the dry grass as the green; she neverseems to chew, but bolts and swallows all that is put before her, for shehas a canine appetite that is never satisfied; and though she has nobelly, she shows she has a dropsy and is athirst to drink the lives ofall that live, as one would drink a jug of cold water.""Say no more, Sancho," said Don Quixote at this; "don't try to better it,and risk a fall; for in truth what thou hast said about death in thyrustic phrase is what a good preacher might have said. I tell thee,Sancho, if thou hadst discretion equal to thy mother wit, thou mightsttake a pulpit in hand, and go about the world preaching fine sermons.""He preaches well who lives well," said Sancho, "and I know no moretheology than that.""Nor needst thou," said Don Quixote, "but I cannot conceive or make outhow it is that, the fear of God being the beginning of wisdom, thou, whoart more afraid of a lizard than of him, knowest so much.""Pass judgment on your chivalries, senor," returned Sancho, "and don'tset yourself up to judge of other men's fears or braveries, for I am asgood a fearer of God as my neighbours; but leave me to despatch theseskimmings, for all the rest is only idle talk that we shall be called toaccount for in the other world;" and so saying, he began a fresh attackon the bucket, with such a hearty appetite that he aroused Don Quixote's,who no doubt would have helped him had he not been prevented by what mustbe told farther on.