PART II - CHAPTER XXIV.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　WHEREIN ARE RELATED A THOUSAND TRIFLING MATTERS, AS TRIVIAL AS THEY ARENECESSARY TO THE RIGHT UNDERSTANDING OF THIS GREAT HISTORYHe who translated this great history from the original written by itsfirst author, Cide Hamete Benengeli, says that on coming to the chaptergiving the adventures of the cave of Montesinos he found written on themargin of it, in Hamete's own hand, these exact words:"I cannot convince or persuade myself that everything that is written inthe preceding chapter could have precisely happened to the valiant DonQuixote; and for this reason, that all the adventures that have occurredup to the present have been possible and probable; but as for this one ofthe cave, I see no way of accepting it as true, as it passes allreasonable bounds. For me to believe that Don Quixote could lie, he beingthe most truthful gentleman and the noblest knight of his time, isimpossible; he would not have told a lie though he were shot to deathwith arrows. On the other hand, I reflect that he related and told thestory with all the circumstances detailed, and that he could not in soshort a space have fabricated such a vast complication of absurdities;if, then, this adventure seems apocryphal, it is no fault of mine; andso, without affirming its falsehood or its truth, I write it down. Decidefor thyself in thy wisdom, reader; for I am not bound, nor is it in mypower, to do more; though certain it is they say that at the time of hisdeath he retracted, and said he had invented it, thinking it matched andtallied with the adventures he had read of in his histories." And then hegoes on to say:The cousin was amazed as well at Sancho's boldness as at the patience ofhis master, and concluded that the good temper the latter displayed arosefrom the happiness he felt at having seen his lady Dulcinea, evenenchanted as she was; because otherwise the words and language Sancho hadaddressed to him deserved a thrashing; for indeed he seemed to him tohave been rather impudent to his master, to whom he now observed, "I,Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha, look upon the time I have spent intravelling with your worship as very well employed, for I have gainedfour things in the course of it; the first is that I have made youracquaintance, which I consider great good fortune; the second, that Ihave learned what the cave of Montesinos contains, together with thetransformations of Guadiana and of the lakes of Ruidera; which will be ofuse to me for the Spanish Ovid that I have in hand; the third, to havediscovered the antiquity of cards, that they were in use at least in thetime of Charlemagne, as may be inferred from the words you say Durandarteuttered when, at the end of that long spell while Montesinos was talkingto him, he woke up and said, 'Patience and shuffle.' This phrase andexpression he could not have learned while he was enchanted, but onlybefore he had become so, in France, and in the time of the aforesaidemperor Charlemagne. And this demonstration is just the thing for me forthat other book I am writing, the 'Supplement to Polydore Vergil on theInvention of Antiquities;' for I believe he never thought of insertingthat of cards in his book, as I mean to do in mine, and it will be amatter of great importance, particularly when I can cite so grave andveracious an authority as Senor Durandarte. And the fourth thing is, thatI have ascertained the source of the river Guadiana, heretofore unknownto mankind.""You are right," said Don Quixote; "but I should like to know, if byGod's favour they grant you a licence to print those books of yours-whichI doubt--to whom do you mean dedicate them?""There are lords and grandees in Spain to whom they can be dedicated,"said the cousin."Not many," said Don Quixote; "not that they are unworthy of it, butbecause they do not care to accept books and incur the obligation ofmaking the return that seems due to the author's labour and courtesy. Oneprince I know who makes up for all the rest, and more-how much more, if Iventured to say, perhaps I should stir up envy in many a noble breast;but let this stand over for some more convenient time, and let us go andlook for some place to shelter ourselves in to-night.""Not far from this," said the cousin, "there is a hermitage, where therelives a hermit, who they say was a soldier, and who has the reputation ofbeing a good Christian and a very intelligent and charitable man. Closeto the hermitage he has a small house which he built at his own cost, butthough small it is large enough for the reception of guests.""Has this hermit any hens, do you think?" asked Sancho."Few hermits are without them," said Don Quixote; "for those we seenow-a-days are not like the hermits of the Egyptian deserts who were cladin palm-leaves, and lived on the roots of the earth. But do not thinkthat by praising these I am disparaging the others; all I mean to say isthat the penances of those of the present day do not come up to theasceticism and austerity of former times; but it does not follow fromthis that they are not all worthy; at least I think them so; and at theworst the hypocrite who pretends to be good does less harm than the opensinner."At this point they saw approaching the spot where they stood a man onfoot, proceeding at a rapid pace, and beating a mule loaded with lancesand halberds. When he came up to them, he saluted them and passed onwithout stopping. Don Quixote called to him, "Stay, good fellow; you seemto be making more haste than suits that mule.""I cannot stop, senor," answered the man; "for the arms you see I carryhere are to be used tomorrow, so I must not delay; God be with you. Butif you want to know what I am carrying them for, I mean to lodge to-nightat the inn that is beyond the hermitage, and if you be going the sameroad you will find me there, and I will tell you some curious things;once more God be with you;" and he urged on his mule at such a pace thatDon Quixote had no time to ask him what these curious things were that hemeant to tell them; and as he was somewhat inquisitive, and alwaystortured by his anxiety to learn something new, he decided to set out atonce, and go and pass the night at the inn instead of stopping at thehermitage, where the cousin would have had them halt. Accordingly theymounted and all three took the direct road for the inn, which theyreached a little before nightfall. On the road the cousin proposed theyshould go up to the hermitage to drink a sup. The instant Sancho heardthis he steered his Dapple towards it, and Don Quixote and the cousin didthe same; but it seems Sancho's bad luck so ordered it that the hermitwas not at home, for so a sub-hermit they found in the hermitage toldthem. They called for some of the best. She replied that her master hadnone, but that if they liked cheap water she would give it with greatpleasure."If I found any in water," said Sancho, "there are wells along the roadwhere I could have had enough of it. Ah, Camacho's wedding, and plentifulhouse of Don Diego, how often do I miss you!"Leaving the hermitage, they pushed on towards the inn, and a littlefarther they came upon a youth who was pacing along in front of them atno great speed, so that they overtook him. He carried a sword over hisshoulder, and slung on it a budget or bundle of his clothes apparently,probably his breeches or pantaloons, and his cloak and a shirt or two;for he had on a short jacket of velvet with a gloss like satin on it inplaces, and had his shirt out; his stockings were of silk, and his shoessquare-toed as they wear them at court. His age might have been eighteenor nineteen; he was of a merry countenance, and to all appearance of anactive habit, and he went along singing seguidillas to beguile thewearisomeness of the road. As they came up with him he was just finishingone, which the cousin got by heart and they say ran thus--I'm off to the wars

　　For the want of pence,

　　Oh, had I but money

　　I'd show more sense.

　　The first to address him was Don Quixote, who said, "You travel veryairily, sir gallant; whither bound, may we ask, if it is your pleasure totell us?"To which the youth replied, "The heat and my poverty are the reason of mytravelling so airily, and it is to the wars that I am bound.""How poverty?" asked Don Quixote; "the heat one can understand.""Senor," replied the youth, "in this bundle I carry velvet pantaloons tomatch this jacket; if I wear them out on the road, I shall not be able tomake a decent appearance in them in the city, and I have not thewherewithal to buy others; and so for this reason, as well as to keepmyself cool, I am making my way in this fashion to overtake somecompanies of infantry that are not twelve leagues off, in which I shallenlist, and there will be no want of baggage trains to travel with afterthat to the place of embarkation, which they say will be Carthagena; Iwould rather have the King for a master, and serve him in the wars, thanserve a court pauper.""And did you get any bounty, now?" asked the cousin."If I had been in the service of some grandee of Spain or personage ofdistinction," replied the youth, "I should have been safe to get it; forthat is the advantage of serving good masters, that out of the servants'hall men come to be ancients or captains, or get a good pension. But I,to my misfortune, always served place-hunters and adventurers, whose keepand wages were so miserable and scanty that half went in paying for thestarching of one's collars; it would be a miracle indeed if a pagevolunteer ever got anything like a reasonable bounty.""And tell me, for heaven's sake," asked Don Quixote, "is it possible, myfriend, that all the time you served you never got any livery?""They gave me two," replied the page; "but just as when one quits areligious community before making profession, they strip him of the dressof the order and give him back his own clothes, so did my masters returnme mine; for as soon as the business on which they came to court wasfinished, they went home and took back the liveries they had given merelyfor show.""What spilorceria!--as an Italian would say," said Don Quixote; "but forall that, consider yourself happy in having left court with as worthy anobject as you have, for there is nothing on earth more honourable orprofitable than serving, first of all God, and then one's king andnatural lord, particularly in the profession of arms, by which, if notmore wealth, at least more honour is to be won than by letters, as I havesaid many a time; for though letters may have founded more great housesthan arms, still those founded by arms have I know not what superiorityover those founded by letters, and a certain splendour belonging to themthat distinguishes them above all. And bear in mind what I am now aboutto say to you, for it will be of great use and comfort to you in time oftrouble; it is, not to let your mind dwell on the adverse chances thatmay befall you; for the worst of all is death, and if it be a good death,the best of all is to die. They asked Julius Caesar, the valiant Romanemperor, what was the best death. He answered, that which is unexpected,which comes suddenly and unforeseen; and though he answered like a pagan,and one without the knowledge of the true God, yet, as far as sparing ourfeelings is concerned, he was right; for suppose you are killed in thefirst engagement or skirmish, whether by a cannon ball or blown up bymine, what matters it? It is only dying, and all is over; and accordingto Terence, a soldier shows better dead in battle, than alive and safe inflight; and the good soldier wins fame in proportion as he is obedient tohis captains and those in command over him. And remember, my son, that itis better for the soldier to smell of gunpowder than of civet, and thatif old age should come upon you in this honourable calling, though youmay be covered with wounds and crippled and lame, it will not come uponyou without honour, and that such as poverty cannot lessen; especiallynow that provisions are being made for supporting and relieving old anddisabled soldiers; for it is not right to deal with them after thefashion of those who set free and get rid of their black slaves when theyare old and useless, and, turning them out of their houses under thepretence of making them free, make them slaves to hunger, from which theycannot expect to be released except by death. But for the present I won'tsay more than get ye up behind me on my horse as far as the inn, and supwith me there, and to-morrow you shall pursue your journey, and God giveyou as good speed as your intentions deserve."The page did not accept the invitation to mount, though he did that tosupper at the inn; and here they say Sancho said to himself, "God be withyou for a master; is it possible that a man who can say things so manyand so good as he has said just now, can say that he saw the impossibleabsurdities he reports about the cave of Montesinos? Well, well, we shallsee."And now, just as night was falling, they reached the inn, and it was notwithout satisfaction that Sancho perceived his master took it for a realinn, and not for a castle as usual. The instant they entered Don Quixoteasked the landlord after the man with the lances and halberds, and wastold that he was in the stable seeing to his mule; which was what Sanchoand the cousin proceeded to do for their beasts, giving the best mangerand the best place in the stable to Rocinante.