PART II - CHAPTER XXXII.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　OF THE REPLY DON QUIXOTE GAVE HIS CENSURER, WITH OTHER INCIDENTS, GRAVEAND DROLLDon Quixote, then, having risen to his feet, trembling from head to footlike a man dosed with mercury, said in a hurried, agitated voice, "Theplace I am in, the presence in which I stand, and the respect I have andalways have had for the profession to which your worship belongs, holdand bind the hands of my just indignation; and as well for these reasonsas because I know, as everyone knows, that a gownsman's weapon is thesame as a woman's, the tongue, I will with mine engage in equal combatwith your worship, from whom one might have expected good advice insteadof foul abuse. Pious, well-meant reproof requires a different demeanourand arguments of another sort; at any rate, to have reproved me inpublic, and so roughly, exceeds the bounds of proper reproof, for thatcomes better with gentleness than with rudeness; and it is not seemly tocall the sinner roundly blockhead and booby, without knowing anything ofthe sin that is reproved. Come, tell me, for which of the stupidities youhave observed in me do you condemn and abuse me, and bid me go home andlook after my house and wife and children, without knowing whether I haveany? Is nothing more needed than to get a footing, by hook or by crook,in other people's houses to rule over the masters (and that, perhaps,after having been brought up in all the straitness of some seminary, andwithout having ever seen more of the world than may lie within twenty orthirty leagues round), to fit one to lay down the law rashly forchivalry, and pass judgment on knights-errant? Is it, haply, an idleoccupation, or is the time ill-spent that is spent in roaming the worldin quest, not of its enjoyments, but of those arduous toils whereby thegood mount upwards to the abodes of everlasting life? If gentlemen, greatlords, nobles, men of high birth, were to rate me as a fool I should takeit as an irreparable insult; but I care not a farthing if clerks who havenever entered upon or trod the paths of chivalry should think me foolish.Knight I am, and knight I will die, if such be the pleasure of the MostHigh. Some take the broad road of overweening ambition; others that ofmean and servile flattery; others that of deceitful hypocrisy, and somethat of true religion; but I, led by my star, follow the narrow path ofknight-errantry, and in pursuit of that calling I despise wealth, but nothonour. I have redressed injuries, righted wrongs, punished insolences,vanquished giants, and crushed monsters; I am in love, for no otherreason than that it is incumbent on knights-errant to be so; but though Iam, I am no carnal-minded lover, but one of the chaste, platonic sort. Myintentions are always directed to worthy ends, to do good to all and evilto none; and if he who means this, does this, and makes this his practicedeserves to be called a fool, it is for your highnesses to say, O mostexcellent duke and duchess.""Good, by God!" cried Sancho; "say no more in your own defence, mastermine, for there's nothing more in the world to be said, thought, orinsisted on; and besides, when this gentleman denies, as he has, thatthere are or ever have been any knights-errant in the world, is it anywonder if he knows nothing of what he has been talking about?""Perhaps, brother," said the ecclesiastic, "you are that Sancho Panzathat is mentioned, to whom your master has promised an island?""Yes, I am," said Sancho, "and what's more, I am one who deserves it asmuch as anyone; I am one of the sort--'Attach thyself to the good, andthou wilt be one of them,' and of those, 'Not with whom thou art bred,but with whom thou art fed,' and of those, 'Who leans against a goodtree, a good shade covers him;' I have leant upon a good master, and Ihave been for months going about with him, and please God I shall be justsuch another; long life to him and long life to me, for neither will hebe in any want of empires to rule, or I of islands to govern.""No, Sancho my friend, certainly not," said the duke, "for in the name ofSenor Don Quixote I confer upon you the government of one of no smallimportance that I have at my disposal.""Go down on thy knees, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and kiss the feet ofhis excellence for the favour he has bestowed upon thee."Sancho obeyed, and on seeing this the ecclesiastic stood up from tablecompletely out of temper, exclaiming, "By the gown I wear, I am almostinclined to say that your excellence is as great a fool as these sinners.No wonder they are mad, when people who are in their senses sanctiontheir madness! I leave your excellence with them, for so long as they arein the house, I will remain in my own, and spare myself the trouble ofreproving what I cannot remedy;" and without uttering another word, oreating another morsel, he went off, the entreaties of the duke andduchess being entirely unavailing to stop him; not that the duke saidmuch to him, for he could not, because of the laughter his uncalled-foranger provoked.When he had done laughing, he said to Don Quixote, "You have replied onyour own behalf so stoutly, Sir Knight of the Lions, that there is nooccasion to seek further satisfaction for this, which, though it may looklike an offence, is not so at all, for, as women can give no offence, nomore can ecclesiastics, as you very well know.""That is true," said Don Quixote, "and the reason is, that he who is notliable to offence cannot give offence to anyone. Women, children, andecclesiastics, as they cannot defend themselves, though they may receiveoffence cannot be insulted, because between the offence and the insultthere is, as your excellence very well knows, this difference: the insultcomes from one who is capable of offering it, and does so, and maintainsit; the offence may come from any quarter without carrying insult. Totake an example: a man is standing unsuspectingly in the street and tenothers come up armed and beat him; he draws his sword and quits himselflike a man, but the number of his antagonists makes it impossible for himto effect his purpose and avenge himself; this man suffers an offence butnot an insult. Another example will make the same thing plain: a man isstanding with his back turned, another comes up and strikes him, andafter striking him takes to flight, without waiting an instant, and theother pursues him but does not overtake him; he who received the blowreceived an offence, but not an insult, because an insult must bemaintained. If he who struck him, though he did so sneakingly andtreacherously, had drawn his sword and stood and faced him, then he whohad been struck would have received offence and insult at the same time;offence because he was struck treacherously, insult because he who struckhim maintained what he had done, standing his ground without taking toflight. And so, according to the laws of the accursed duel, I may havereceived offence, but not insult, for neither women nor children canmaintain it, nor can they wound, nor have they any way of standing theirground, and it is just the same with those connected with religion; forthese three sorts of persons are without arms offensive or defensive, andso, though naturally they are bound to defend themselves, they have noright to offend anybody; and though I said just now I might have receivedoffence, I say now certainly not, for he who cannot receive an insult canstill less give one; for which reasons I ought not to feel, nor do Ifeel, aggrieved at what that good man said to me; I only wish he hadstayed a little longer, that I might have shown him the mistake he makesin supposing and maintaining that there are not and never have been anyknights-errant in the world; had Amadis or any of his countlessdescendants heard him say as much, I am sure it would not have gone wellwith his worship.""I will take my oath of that," said Sancho; "they would have given him aslash that would have slit him down from top to toe like a pomegranate ora ripe melon; they were likely fellows to put up with jokes of that sort!By my faith, I'm certain if Reinaldos of Montalvan had heard the littleman's words he would have given him such a spank on the mouth that hewouldn't have spoken for the next three years; ay, let him tackle them,and he'll see how he'll get out of their hands!"The duchess, as she listened to Sancho, was ready to die with laughter,and in her own mind she set him down as droller and madder than hismaster; and there were a good many just then who were of the sameopinion.Don Quixote finally grew calm, and dinner came to an end, and as thecloth was removed four damsels came in, one of them with a silver basin,another with a jug also of silver, a third with two fine white towels onher shoulder, and the fourth with her arms bared to the elbows, and inher white hands (for white they certainly were) a round ball of Naplessoap. The one with the basin approached, and with arch composure andimpudence, thrust it under Don Quixote's chin, who, wondering at such aceremony, said never a word, supposing it to be the custom of thatcountry to wash beards instead of hands; he therefore stretched his outas far as he could, and at the same instant the jug began to pour and thedamsel with the soap rubbed his beard briskly, raising snow-flakes, forthe soap lather was no less white, not only over the beard, but all overthe face, and over the eyes of the submissive knight, so that they wereperforce obliged to keep shut. The duke and duchess, who had not knownanything about this, waited to see what came of this strange washing. Thebarber damsel, when she had him a hand's breadth deep in lather,pretended that there was no more water, and bade the one with the jug goand fetch some, while Senor Don Quixote waited. She did so, and DonQuixote was left the strangest and most ludicrous figure that could beimagined. All those present, and there were a good many, were watchinghim, and as they saw him there with half a yard of neck, and thatuncommonly brown, his eyes shut, and his beard full of soap, it was agreat wonder, and only by great discretion, that they were able torestrain their laughter. The damsels, the concocters of the joke, kepttheir eyes down, not daring to look at their master and mistress; and asfor them, laughter and anger struggled within them, and they knew notwhat to do, whether to punish the audacity of the girls, or to rewardthem for the amusement they had received from seeing Don Quixote in sucha plight.At length the damsel with the jug returned and they made an end ofwashing Don Quixote, and the one who carried the towels very deliberatelywiped him and dried him; and all four together making him a profoundobeisance and curtsey, they were about to go, when the duke, lest DonQuixote should see through the joke, called out to the one with the basinsaying, "Come and wash me, and take care that there is water enough." Thegirl, sharp-witted and prompt, came and placed the basin for the duke asshe had done for Don Quixote, and they soon had him well soaped andwashed, and having wiped him dry they made their obeisance and retired.It appeared afterwards that the duke had sworn that if they had notwashed him as they had Don Quixote he would have punished them for theirimpudence, which they adroitly atoned for by soaping him as well.Sancho observed the ceremony of the washing very attentively, and said tohimself, "God bless me, if it were only the custom in this country towash squires' beards too as well as knights'. For by God and upon my soulI want it badly; and if they gave me a scrape of the razor besides I'dtake it as a still greater kindness.""What are you saying to yourself, Sancho?" asked the duchess."I was saying, senora," he replied, "that in the courts of other princes,when the cloth is taken away, I have always heard say they give water forthe hands, but not lye for the beard; and that shows it is good to livelong that you may see much; to be sure, they say too that he who lives along life must undergo much evil, though to undergo a washing of thatsort is pleasure rather than pain.""Don't be uneasy, friend Sancho," said the duchess; "I will take carethat my damsels wash you, and even put you in the tub if necessary.""I'll be content with the beard," said Sancho, "at any rate for thepresent; and as for the future, God has decreed what is to be.""Attend to worthy Sancho's request, seneschal," said the duchess, "and doexactly what he wishes."The seneschal replied that Senor Sancho should be obeyed in everything;and with that he went away to dinner and took Sancho along with him,while the duke and duchess and Don Quixote remained at table discussing agreat variety of things, but all bearing on the calling of arms andknight-errantry.The duchess begged Don Quixote, as he seemed to have a retentive memory,to describe and portray to her the beauty and features of the ladyDulcinea del Toboso, for, judging by what fame trumpeted abroad of herbeauty, she felt sure she must be the fairest creature in the world, nay,in all La Mancha.Don Quixote sighed on hearing the duchess's request, and said, "If Icould pluck out my heart, and lay it on a plate on this table here beforeyour highness's eyes, it would spare my tongue the pain of telling whatcan hardly be thought of, for in it your excellence would see herportrayed in full. But why should I attempt to depict and describe indetail, and feature by feature, the beauty of the peerless Dulcinea, theburden being one worthy of other shoulders than mine, an enterprisewherein the pencils of Parrhasius, Timantes, and Apelles, and the graverof Lysippus ought to be employed, to paint it in pictures and carve it inmarble and bronze, and Ciceronian and Demosthenian eloquence to sound itspraises?""What does Demosthenian mean, Senor Don Quixote?" said the duchess; "itis a word I never heard in all my life.""Demosthenian eloquence," said Don Quixote, "means the eloquence ofDemosthenes, as Ciceronian means that of Cicero, who were the two mosteloquent orators in the world.""True," said the duke; "you must have lost your wits to ask such aquestion. Nevertheless, Senor Don Quixote would greatly gratify us if hewould depict her to us; for never fear, even in an outline or sketch shewill be something to make the fairest envious.""I would do so certainly," said Don Quixote, "had she not been blurred tomy mind's eye by the misfortune that fell upon her a short time since,one of such a nature that I am more ready to weep over it than todescribe it. For your highnesses must know that, going a few days back tokiss her hands and receive her benediction, approbation, and permissionfor this third sally, I found her altogether a different being from theone I sought; I found her enchanted and changed from a princess into apeasant, from fair to foul, from an angel into a devil, from fragrant topestiferous, from refined to clownish, from a dignified lady into ajumping tomboy, and, in a word, from Dulcinea del Toboso into a coarseSayago wench.""God bless me!" said the duke aloud at this, "who can have done the worldsuch an injury? Who can have robbed it of the beauty that gladdened it,of the grace and gaiety that charmed it, of the modesty that shed alustre upon it?""Who?" replied Don Quixote; "who could it be but some malignant enchanterof the many that persecute me out of envy--that accursed race born intothe world to obscure and bring to naught the achievements of the good,and glorify and exalt the deeds of the wicked? Enchanters have persecutedme, enchanters persecute me still, and enchanters will continue topersecute me until they have sunk me and my lofty chivalry in the deepabyss of oblivion; and they injure and wound me where they know I feel itmost. For to deprive a knight-errant of his lady is to deprive him of theeyes he sees with, of the sun that gives him light, of the food wherebyhe lives. Many a time before have I said it, and I say it now once more,a knight-errant without a lady is like a tree without leaves, a buildingwithout a foundation, or a shadow without the body that causes it.""There is no denying it," said the duchess; "but still, if we are tobelieve the history of Don Quixote that has come out here lately withgeneral applause, it is to be inferred from it, if I mistake not, thatyou never saw the lady Dulcinea, and that the said lady is nothing in theworld but an imaginary lady, one that you yourself begot and gave birthto in your brain, and adorned with whatever charms and perfections youchose.""There is a good deal to be said on that point," said Don Quixote; "Godknows whether there be any Dulcinea or not in the world, or whether sheis imaginary or not imaginary; these are things the proof of which mustnot be pushed to extreme lengths. I have not begotten nor given birth tomy lady, though I behold her as she needs must be, a lady who contains inherself all the qualities to make her famous throughout the world,beautiful without blemish, dignified without haughtiness, tender and yetmodest, gracious from courtesy and courteous from good breeding, andlastly, of exalted lineage, because beauty shines forth and excels with ahigher degree of perfection upon good blood than in the fair of lowlybirth.""That is true," said the duke; "but Senor Don Quixote will give me leaveto say what I am constrained to say by the story of his exploits that Ihave read, from which it is to be inferred that, granting there is aDulcinea in El Toboso, or out of it, and that she is in the highestdegree beautiful as you have described her to us, as regards theloftiness of her lineage she is not on a par with the Orianas,Alastrajareas, Madasimas, or others of that sort, with whom, as you wellknow, the histories abound.""To that I may reply," said Don Quixote, "that Dulcinea is the daughterof her own works, and that virtues rectify blood, and that lowly virtueis more to be regarded and esteemed than exalted vice. Dulcinea, besides,has that within her that may raise her to be a crowned and sceptredqueen; for the merit of a fair and virtuous woman is capable ofperforming greater miracles; and virtually, though not formally, she hasin herself higher fortunes.""I protest, Senor Don Quixote," said the duchess, "that in all you say,you go most cautiously and lead in hand, as the saying is; henceforth Iwill believe myself, and I will take care that everyone in my housebelieves, even my lord the duke if needs be, that there is a Dulcinea inEl Toboso, and that she is living to-day, and that she is beautiful andnobly born and deserves to have such a knight as Senor Don Quixote in herservice, and that is the highest praise that it is in my power to giveher or that I can think of. But I cannot help entertaining a doubt, andhaving a certain grudge against Sancho Panza; the doubt is this, that theaforesaid history declares that the said Sancho Panza, when he carried aletter on your worship's behalf to the said lady Dulcinea, found hersifting a sack of wheat; and more by token it says it was red wheat; athing which makes me doubt the loftiness of her lineage."To this Don Quixote made answer, "Senora, your highness must know thateverything or almost everything that happens me transcends the ordinarylimits of what happens to other knights-errant; whether it be that it isdirected by the inscrutable will of destiny, or by the malice of somejealous enchanter. Now it is an established fact that all or most famousknights-errant have some special gift, one that of being proof againstenchantment, another that of being made of such invulnerable flesh thathe cannot be wounded, as was the famous Roland, one of the twelve peersof France, of whom it is related that he could not be wounded except inthe sole of his left foot, and that it must be with the point of a stoutpin and not with any other sort of weapon whatever; and so, when Bernardodel Carpio slew him at Roncesvalles, finding that he could not wound himwith steel, he lifted him up from the ground in his arms and strangledhim, calling to mind seasonably the death which Hercules inflicted onAntaeus, the fierce giant that they say was the son of Terra. I wouldinfer from what I have mentioned that perhaps I may have some gift ofthis kind, not that of being invulnerable, because experience has manytimes proved to me that I am of tender flesh and not at all impenetrable;nor that of being proof against enchantment, for I have already seenmyself thrust into a cage, in which all the world would not have beenable to confine me except by force of enchantments. But as I deliveredmyself from that one, I am inclined to believe that there is no otherthat can hurt me; and so, these enchanters, seeing that they cannot exerttheir vile craft against my person, revenge themselves on what I lovemost, and seek to rob me of life by maltreating that of Dulcinea in whomI live; and therefore I am convinced that when my squire carried mymessage to her, they changed her into a common peasant girl, engaged insuch a mean occupation as sifting wheat; I have already said, however,that that wheat was not red wheat, nor wheat at all, but grains of orientpearl. And as a proof of all this, I must tell your highnesses that,coming to El Toboso a short time back, I was altogether unable todiscover the palace of Dulcinea; and that the next day, though Sancho, mysquire, saw her in her own proper shape, which is the fairest in theworld, to me she appeared to be a coarse, ill-favoured farm-wench, and byno means a well-spoken one, she who is propriety itself. And so, as I amnot and, so far as one can judge, cannot be enchanted, she it is that isenchanted, that is smitten, that is altered, changed, and transformed; inher have my enemies revenged themselves upon me, and for her shall I livein ceaseless tears, until I see her in her pristine state. I havementioned this lest anybody should mind what Sancho said about Dulcinea'swinnowing or sifting; for, as they changed her to me, it is no wonder ifthey changed her to him. Dulcinea is illustrious and well-born, and ofone of the gentle families of El Toboso, which are many, ancient, andgood. Therein, most assuredly, not small is the share of the peerlessDulcinea, through whom her town will be famous and celebrated in ages tocome, as Troy was through Helen, and Spain through La Cava, though with abetter title and tradition. For another thing; I would have your gracesunderstand that Sancho Panza is one of the drollest squires that everserved knight-errant; sometimes there is a simplicity about him so acutethat it is an amusement to try and make out whether he is simple orsharp; he has mischievous tricks that stamp him rogue, and blunderingways that prove him a booby; he doubts everything and believeseverything; when I fancy he is on the point of coming down headlong fromsheer stupidity, he comes out with something shrewd that sends him up tothe skies. After all, I would not exchange him for another squire, thoughI were given a city to boot, and therefore I am in doubt whether it willbe well to send him to the government your highness has bestowed uponhim; though I perceive in him a certain aptitude for the work ofgoverning, so that, with a little trimming of his understanding, he wouldmanage any government as easily as the king does his taxes; and moreover,we know already ample experience that it does not require much clevernessor much learning to be a governor, for there are a hundred round about usthat scarcely know how to read, and govern like gerfalcons. The mainpoint is that they should have good intentions and be desirous of doingright in all things, for they will never be at a loss for persons toadvise and direct them in what they have to do, like thoseknight-governors who, being no lawyers, pronounce sentences with the aidof an assessor. My advice to him will be to take no bribe and surrenderno right, and I have some other little matters in reserve, that shall beproduced in due season for Sancho's benefit and the advantage of theisland he is to govern."The duke, duchess, and Don Quixote had reached this point in theirconversation, when they heard voices and a great hubbub in the palace,and Sancho burst abruptly into the room all glowing with anger, with astraining-cloth by way of a bib, and followed by several servants, or,more properly speaking, kitchen-boys and other underlings, one of whomcarried a small trough full of water, that from its colour and impuritywas plainly dishwater. The one with the trough pursued him and followedhim everywhere he went, endeavouring with the utmost persistence tothrust it under his chin, while another kitchen-boy seemed anxious towash his beard."What is all this, brothers?" asked the duchess. "What is it? What do youwant to do to this good man? Do you forget he is a governor-elect?"To which the barber kitchen-boy replied, "The gentleman will not lethimself be washed as is customary, and as my lord and the senor hismaster have been.""Yes, I will," said Sancho, in a great rage; "but I'd like it to be withcleaner towels, clearer lye, and not such dirty hands; for there's not somuch difference between me and my master that he should be washed withangels' water and I with devil's lye. The customs of countries andprinces' palaces are only good so long as they give no annoyance; but theway of washing they have here is worse than doing penance. I have a cleanbeard, and I don't require to be refreshed in that fashion, and whoevercomes to wash me or touch a hair of my head, I mean to say my beard, withall due respect be it said, I'll give him a punch that will leave my fistsunk in his skull; for cirimonies and soapings of this sort are more likejokes than the polite attentions of one's host."The duchess was ready to die with laughter when she saw Sancho's rage andheard his words; but it was no pleasure to Don Quixote to see him in sucha sorry trim, with the dingy towel about him, and the hangers-on of thekitchen all round him; so making a low bow to the duke and duchess, as ifto ask their permission to speak, he addressed the rout in a dignifiedtone: "Holloa, gentlemen! you let that youth alone, and go back to whereyou came from, or anywhere else if you like; my squire is as clean as anyother person, and those troughs are as bad as narrow thin-necked jars tohim; take my advice and leave him alone, for neither he nor I understandjoking."Sancho took the word out of his mouth and went on, "Nay, let them comeand try their jokes on the country bumpkin, for it's about as likely I'llstand them as that it's now midnight! Let them bring me a comb here, orwhat they please, and curry this beard of mine, and if they get anythingout of it that offends against cleanliness, let them clip me to theskin."Upon this, the duchess, laughing all the while, said, "Sancho Panza isright, and always will be in all he says; he is clean, and, as he sayshimself, he does not require to be washed; and if our ways do not pleasehim, he is free to choose. Besides, you promoters of cleanliness havebeen excessively careless and thoughtless, I don't know if I ought not tosay audacious, to bring troughs and wooden utensils and kitchendishclouts, instead of basins and jugs of pure gold and towels ofholland, to such a person and such a beard; but, after all, you areill-conditioned and ill-bred, and spiteful as you are, you cannot helpshowing the grudge you have against the squires of knights-errant."The impudent servitors, and even the seneschal who came with them, tookthe duchess to be speaking in earnest, so they removed thestraining-cloth from Sancho's neck, and with something like shame andconfusion of face went off all of them and left him; whereupon he, seeinghimself safe out of that extreme danger, as it seemed to him, ran andfell on his knees before the duchess, saying, "From great ladies greatfavours may be looked for; this which your grace has done me today cannotbe requited with less than wishing I was dubbed a knight-errant, todevote myself all the days of my life to the service of so exalted alady. I am a labouring man, my name is Sancho Panza, I am married, I havechildren, and I am serving as a squire; if in any one of these ways I canserve your highness, I will not be longer in obeying than your grace incommanding.""It is easy to see, Sancho," replied the duchess, "that you have learnedto be polite in the school of politeness itself; I mean to say it is easyto see that you have been nursed in the bosom of Senor Don Quixote, whois, of course, the cream of good breeding and flower of ceremony--orcirimony, as you would say yourself. Fair be the fortunes of such amaster and such a servant, the one the cynosure of knight-errantry, theother the star of squirely fidelity! Rise, Sancho, my friend; I willrepay your courtesy by taking care that my lord the duke makes good toyou the promised gift of the government as soon as possible."With this, the conversation came to an end, and Don Quixote retired totake his midday sleep; but the duchess begged Sancho, unless he had avery great desire to go to sleep, to come and spend the afternoon withher and her damsels in a very cool chamber. Sancho replied that, thoughhe certainly had the habit of sleeping four or five hours in the heat ofthe day in summer, to serve her excellence he would try with all hismight not to sleep even one that day, and that he would come in obedienceto her command, and with that he went off. The duke gave fresh orderswith respect to treating Don Quixote as a knight-errant, withoutdeparting even in smallest particular from the style in which, as thestories tell us, they used to treat the knights of old.