PART II - CHAPTER XXVIII.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　OF MATTERS THAT BENENGELI SAYS HE WHO READS THEM WILL KNOW, IF HE READSTHEM WITH ATTENTIONWhen the brave man flees, treachery is manifest and it is for wise men toreserve themselves for better occasions. This proved to be the case withDon Quixote, who, giving way before the fury of the townsfolk and thehostile intentions of the angry troop, took to flight and, without athought of Sancho or the danger in which he was leaving him, retreated tosuch a distance as he thought made him safe. Sancho, lying across hisass, followed him, as has been said, and at length came up, having bythis time recovered his senses, and on joining him let himself drop offDapple at Rocinante's feet, sore, bruised, and belaboured. Don Quixotedismounted to examine his wounds, but finding him whole from head tofoot, he said to him, angrily enough, "In an evil hour didst thou take tobraying, Sancho! Where hast thou learned that it is well done to mentionthe rope in the house of the man that has been hanged? To the music ofbrays what harmonies couldst thou expect to get but cudgels? Give thanksto God, Sancho, that they signed the cross on thee just now with a stick,and did not mark thee per signum crucis with a cutlass.""I'm not equal to answering," said Sancho, "for I feel as if I wasspeaking through my shoulders; let us mount and get away from this; I'llkeep from braying, but not from saying that knights-errant fly and leavetheir good squires to be pounded like privet, or made meal of at thehands of their enemies.""He does not fly who retires," returned Don Quixote; "for I would havethee know, Sancho, that the valour which is not based upon a foundationof prudence is called rashness, and the exploits of the rash man are tobe attributed rather to good fortune than to courage; and so I own that Iretired, but not that I fled; and therein I have followed the example ofmany valiant men who have reserved themselves for better times; thehistories are full of instances of this, but as it would not be any goodto thee or pleasure to me, I will not recount them to thee now."Sancho was by this time mounted with the help of Don Quixote, who thenhimself mounted Rocinante, and at a leisurely pace they proceeded to takeshelter in a grove which was in sight about a quarter of a league off.Every now and then Sancho gave vent to deep sighs and dismal groans, andon Don Quixote asking him what caused such acute suffering, he repliedthat, from the end of his back-bone up to the nape of his neck, he was sosore that it nearly drove him out of his senses."The cause of that soreness," said Don Quixote, "will be, no doubt, thatthe staff wherewith they smote thee being a very long one, it caught theeall down the back, where all the parts that are sore are situated, andhad it reached any further thou wouldst be sorer still.""By God," said Sancho, "your worship has relieved me of a great doubt,and cleared up the point for me in elegant style! Body o' me! is thecause of my soreness such a mystery that there's any need to tell me I amsore everywhere the staff hit me? If it was my ankles that pained methere might be something in going divining why they did, but it is notmuch to divine that I'm sore where they thrashed me. By my faith, mastermine, the ills of others hang by a hair; every day I am discovering moreand more how little I have to hope for from keeping company with yourworship; for if this time you have allowed me to be drubbed, the nexttime, or a hundred times more, we'll have the blanketings of the otherday over again, and all the other pranks which, if they have fallen on myshoulders now, will be thrown in my teeth by-and-by. I would do a greatdeal better (if I was not an ignorant brute that will never do any goodall my life), I would do a great deal better, I say, to go home to mywife and children and support them and bring them up on what God mayplease to give me, instead of following your worship along roads thatlead nowhere and paths that are none at all, with little to drink andless to eat. And then when it comes to sleeping! Measure out seven feeton the earth, brother squire, and if that's not enough for you, take asmany more, for you may have it all your own way and stretch yourself toyour heart's content. Oh that I could see burnt and turned to ashes thefirst man that meddled with knight-errantry or at any rate the first whochose to be squire to such fools as all the knights-errant of past timesmust have been! Of those of the present day I say nothing, because, asyour worship is one of them, I respect them, and because I know yourworship knows a point more than the devil in all you say and think.""I would lay a good wager with you, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that nowthat you are talking on without anyone to stop you, you don't feel a painin your whole body. Talk away, my son, say whatever comes into your heador mouth, for so long as you feel no pain, the irritation yourimpertinences give me will be a pleasure to me; and if you are so anxiousto go home to your wife and children, God forbid that I should preventyou; you have money of mine; see how long it is since we left our villagethis third time, and how much you can and ought to earn every month, andpay yourself out of your own hand.""When I worked for Tom Carrasco, the father of the bachelor SamsonCarrasco that your worship knows," replied Sancho, "I used to earn twoducats a month besides my food; I can't tell what I can earn with yourworship, though I know a knight-errant's squire has harder times of itthan he who works for a farmer; for after all, we who work for farmers,however much we toil all day, at the worst, at night, we have our ollasupper and sleep in a bed, which I have not slept in since I have been inyour worship's service, if it wasn't the short time we were in Don Diegode Miranda's house, and the feast I had with the skimmings I took offCamacho's pots, and what I ate, drank, and slept in Basilio's house; allthe rest of the time I have been sleeping on the hard ground under theopen sky, exposed to what they call the inclemencies of heaven, keepinglife in me with scraps of cheese and crusts of bread, and drinking watereither from the brooks or from the springs we come to on these by-pathswe travel.""I own, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that all thou sayest is true; howmuch, thinkest thou, ought I to give thee over and above what TomCarrasco gave thee?""I think," said Sancho, "that if your worship was to add on two reals amonth I'd consider myself well paid; that is, as far as the wages of mylabour go; but to make up to me for your worship's pledge and promise tome to give me the government of an island, it would be fair to add sixreals more, making thirty in all.""Very good," said Don Quixote; "it is twenty-five days since we left ourvillage, so reckon up, Sancho, according to the wages you have made outfor yourself, and see how much I owe you in proportion, and pay yourself,as I said before, out of your own hand.""O body o' me!" said Sancho, "but your worship is very much out in thatreckoning; for when it comes to the promise of the island we must countfrom the day your worship promised it to me to this present hour we areat now.""Well, how long is it, Sancho, since I promised it to you?" said DonQuixote."If I remember rightly," said Sancho, "it must be over twenty years,three days more or less."Don Quixote gave himself a great slap on the forehead and began to laughheartily, and said he, "Why, I have not been wandering, either in theSierra Morena or in the whole course of our sallies, but barely twomonths, and thou sayest, Sancho, that it is twenty years since I promisedthee the island. I believe now thou wouldst have all the money thou hastof mine go in thy wages. If so, and if that be thy pleasure, I give it tothee now, once and for all, and much good may it do thee, for so long asI see myself rid of such a good-for-nothing squire I'll be glad to beleft a pauper without a rap. But tell me, thou perverter of the squirelyrules of knight-errantry, where hast thou ever seen or read that anyknight-errant's squire made terms with his lord, 'you must give me somuch a month for serving you'? Plunge, scoundrel, rogue, monster--forsuch I take thee to be--plunge, I say, into the mare magnum of theirhistories; and if thou shalt find that any squire ever said or thoughtwhat thou hast said now, I will let thee nail it on my forehead, and giveme, over and above, four sound slaps in the face. Turn the rein, or thehalter, of thy Dapple, and begone home; for one single step further thoushalt not make in my company. O bread thanklessly received! O promisesill-bestowed! O man more beast than human being! Now, when I was about toraise thee to such a position, that, in spite of thy wife, they wouldcall thee 'my lord,' thou art leaving me? Thou art going now when I had afirm and fixed intention of making thee lord of the best island in theworld? Well, as thou thyself hast said before now, honey is not for themouth of the ass. Ass thou art, ass thou wilt be, and ass thou wilt endwhen the course of thy life is run; for I know it will come to its closebefore thou dost perceive or discern that thou art a beast."Sancho regarded Don Quixote earnestly while he was giving him thisrating, and was so touched by remorse that the tears came to his eyes,and in a piteous and broken voice he said to him, "Master mine, I confessthat, to be a complete ass, all I want is a tail; if your worship willonly fix one on to me, I'll look on it as rightly placed, and I'll serveyou as an ass all the remaining days of my life. Forgive me and have pityon my folly, and remember I know but little, and, if I talk much, it'smore from infirmity than malice; but he who sins and mends commendshimself to God.""I should have been surprised, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "if thou hadstnot introduced some bit of a proverb into thy speech. Well, well, Iforgive thee, provided thou dost mend and not show thyself in future sofond of thine own interest, but try to be of good cheer and take heart,and encourage thyself to look forward to the fulfillment of my promises,which, by being delayed, does not become impossible."Sancho said he would do so, and keep up his heart as best he could. Theythen entered the grove, and Don Quixote settled himself at the foot of anelm, and Sancho at that of a beech, for trees of this kind and otherslike them always have feet but no hands. Sancho passed the night in pain,for with the evening dews the blow of the staff made itself felt all themore. Don Quixote passed it in his never-failing meditations; but, forall that, they had some winks of sleep, and with the appearance ofdaylight they pursued their journey in quest of the banks of the famousEbro, where that befell them which will be told in the following chapter.