_Sancho Panza's Letter to his wife Teresa Panza._

"If I have been finely lashed, I have been finely mounted up; if I have got a good government, it has cost me many good lashes. This, my dear Teresa, thou canst not understand at present; another time thou wilt. Thou must know, Teresa, that I am determined that thou shalt ride in thy coach, which is somewhat to the purpose; for all other ways of going are no better than creeping upon all fours, like a cat.

Thou shalt be a governor's wife: see then whether any body will dare to tread on thy heels. I here send thee a green hunting-suit, which my lady d.u.c.h.ess gave me; fit it up so that it may serve our daughter for a jacket and petticoat. They say in this country that my master Don Quixote is a sensible madman and a pleasant fool, and that I am not a whit behind him. We have been at Montesinos' cave; and the sage Merlin, the wizard, has pitched upon me to disenchant the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, who among you is called Aldonza Lorenzo. When I have given myself three thousand and three hundred lashes, lacking five, she will be free from enchantment. Say nothing of this to any body; for, bring your affairs into council, and one will cry it is white, another it is black. A few days hence I shall go to the government, whither I go with a huge desire to get money; and I am told it is the same with all new governors. I will first see how matters stand, and send thee word whether or not thou shalt come to me. Dapple is well, and sends thee his hearty service; part with him I will not, though I were to be made the great Turk. The d.u.c.h.ess, my mistress, kisses thy hands a thousand times over; return her two thousand; for, as my master says, nothing is cheaper than civil words.

G.o.d has not been pleased to throw in my way another portmanteau, and another hundred crowns, as once before; but, one way or another, thou art sure to be rich and happy.

"Thy husband the governor,

"SANCHO PANZA.

"From this castle, the 20th of July, 1614."

The d.u.c.h.ess, having read the letter, said to Sancho: "In two things the good governor is a little out of the way; the one in saying, or insinuating, that this government is conferred on him on account of the lashes he is to give himself; whereas he cannot deny that, when my lord duke promised it to him, n.o.body dreamt of lashes: the other is, that he appears to be covetous, and I hope no harm may come of it; for avarice bursts the bag, and the covetous governor doeth ungoverned justice." "Truly, madam, that is not my meaning," replied Sancho; "and if your highness does not like this letter, it is but tearing it, and writing a new one, which mayhap may prove worse, if left to thy mending." "No, no," replied the d.u.c.h.ess; "this is a very good one, and the duke shall see it."

They then repaired to a garden where they were to dine that day; and there Sancho's letter was shewn to the duke, who read it with great pleasure. After dinner, as Sancho was entertaining the company with some of his relishing conversation, they suddenly heard the dismal sound of an unbraced drum, accompanied by a fife. All were surprised at this martial and doleful harmony, especially Don Quixote, who was so agitated that he could scarcely keep his seat. As for Sancho, it is enough to say that fear carried him to his usual refuge, which was the d.u.c.h.ess's side, or the skirts of her petticoat; for the sounds which they heard were truly dismal and melancholy. While they were thus held in suspense, two young men clad in mourning robes trailing upon the ground, entered the garden, each of them beating a great drum, covered also with black; and with these a third playing on the fife, in mourning like the rest. These were followed by a personage of gigantic stature, enveloped in a robe of the blackest dye, the train whereof was of immoderate length, and over it he wore a broad black belt, in which was slung a mighty scimitar, enclosed within a sable scabbard.

His face was covered by a thin black veil, through which might be discovered a long beard, white as snow. He marched forward, regulating his steps to the sound of the drums, with much gravity and stateliness. In short, his dark robe, his enormous bulk, his solemn deportment, and the funereal gloom of his figure, together with his attendants, might well produce the surprise that appeared on every countenance. With all imaginable respect and formality he approached and knelt down before the duke, who received him standing, and would in no wise suffer him to speak till he rose up. The monstrous apparition, then rising, lifted up his veil, and exposed to view his fearful length of beard--the longest, whitest, and most luxuriant that ever human eyes beheld; when, fixing his eyes on the duke, in a voice grave and sonorous, he said, "Most high and potent lord, my name is Trifaldin of the White Beard, and I am squire to the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise called the Afflicted Duenna, from whom I bear a message to your highness, requesting that you will be pleased to give her ladyship permission to approach, and relate to your magnificence the unhappy and wonderful circ.u.mstances of her misfortune. But first, she desires to know whether the valorous and invincible knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, resides at this time in your castle; for in quest of him she has travelled on foot, and fasting, from the kingdom of Candaya to this your territory; an exertion miraculous and incredible, were it not wrought by enchantment. She is now at the outward gate of this castle, and only waits your highness's invitation to enter." Having said this, he hemmed, stroked his beard from top to bottom, and with much gravity and composure stood expecting the duke's answer, which was to this effect: "Worthy Trifaldin of the White Beard, long since have we been apprised of the afflictions of my lady the Countess Trifaldi, who, through the malice of enchanters, is too truly called the Afflicted Duenna; tell her, therefore, that she may enter, and that the valiant knight Don Quixote de la Mancha is here present, from whose generous a.s.sistance she may safely promise herself all the redress she requires." Trifaldin, on receiving the duke's answer, bent one knee to the ground; then giving a signal to his musical attendants, he retired, leaving all in astonishment at the majesty of his figure and deportment.

The duke, then turning to Don Quixote, said, "It is evident, sir knight, that neither the clouds of malice nor of ignorance can obscure the light of your valour and virtue: behold, the afflicted and oppressed flock hither in quest of you from far distant countries; such is their confidence in the strength of that arm, the fame whereof spreads over the whole face of the earth!" "I wish, my lord duke,"

answered Don Quixote, "that holy person who, but a few days since, expressed himself with so much acrimony against knights-errant were now here, that he might have ascertained, with his own eyes, whether or not such knights were necessary in the world. Let the afflicted lady come forward and make known her request, and, be it whatever it may, she may rely on the strength of this arm, and the resolute courage of my soul."

CHAPTER LXVII.

_In which is continued the famous adventure of the afflicted Duenna._

The duke and d.u.c.h.ess were extremely delighted to find Don Quixote wrought up into a mood so favourable to their design; but Sancho was not so well satisfied. "I should be sorry," said he, "that this madam duenna should lay any stumbling-block in the way of my promised government; for I have heard an apothecary of Toledo, who talked like any goldfinch, say that no good ever comes of meddling with duennas.

Odds my life, what an enemy to them was that apothecary! If, then, duennas of every quality and condition are troublesome and impertinent, what must those be who come in the doldrums? which seems to be the case with this same Countess Three-skirts, or Three-tails, for skirts and tails in my country are all one." "Hold thy peace, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for, as this lady duenna comes in quest of me from so remote a country, she cannot be one of those who fall under that apothecary's displeasure. Besides, thou must have noticed that this lady is a countess; and when countesses serve as duennas, it must be as attendants upon queens and empresses." "Yes, in sooth, so it is," said Donna Rodriguez; "but these squires are our sworn enemies; they can find no other pastime than reviling us. Foul slanderers! by my faith, if I were allowed, I would prove to all here present that there is no virtue that is not contained in a duenna." "I am of opinion," quoth the d.u.c.h.ess, "that my good donna is very much in the right; but she must wait for a more proper opportunity to finish the debate, and confute and confound the calumnies of that wicked apothecary, and also to root out the ill opinion which the great Sancho fosters in his breast." "I care not to dispute with her," quoth Sancho, "for ever since the government has got into my head, I have given up all my squireship notions, and care not a fig for all the duennas in the world."

This dialogue about duennas would have continued, had not the sound of the drum and fife announced the approach of the afflicted lady. The d.u.c.h.ess asked the duke whether it would not be proper for him to go and meet her, since she was a countess, and a person of quality. "Look you," quoth Sancho, before the duke could answer; "in regard to her being a countess, it is fitting your highness should go to receive her; but inasmuch as she is a duenna, I am of opinion you should not stir a step." "Who desires thee to intermeddle in this matter, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Who, sir," answered Sancho, "but I myself?

Have I not a right to intermeddle, being a squire, who has learned the rules of good manners in the school of your worship? Have I not had the flower of courtesy for my master, who has often told me that one may as well lose the game by a card too much as a card too little; and a word is enough to the wise." "Sancho is right," quoth the duke; "but let us see what kind of a countess this is, and then we shall judge what courtesy is due to her."

CHAPTER LXVIII.

_Of the account given by the afflicted Duenna of her misfortunes._

The doleful musicians were followed by twelve duennas, in two ranks, clad in large mourning robes, with white veils of thin muslin that almost reached to their feet. Then came the Countess Trifaldi herself, led by her squire Trifaldin of the White Beard. She was clad in a robe, which, had it been napped, each grain would have been of the size of a good ronceval-pea. The train, or tail, was divided into three separate portions, and supported by three pages, and spread out, making a regular mathematical figure with three angles; whence it was conjectured she obtained the name of Trifaldi, or Three-skirts. The twelve duennas, with the lady, advanced slowly, having their faces covered with black veils--not transparent, like that of the squire Trifaldin, but so thick that nothing could be seen through them. Don Quixote, and all the other spectators, rose from their seats; and now the attendant duennas halted, and separating, opened a pa.s.sage through which their afflicted lady, still led by the squire Trifaldin, advanced towards the n.o.ble party, who stepped some dozen paces forward to receive her. She then cast herself on her knees, and with a voice rather harsh and coa.r.s.e than clear and delicate, said, "I entreat your graces will not condescend to so much courtesy to this your handmaid; for my mind, already bewildered with affliction, will only be still more confounded." "He must be wholly dest.i.tute of understanding, lady countess," quoth the duke, "who could not discern your merit by your person, which alone claims all the cream of courtesy, and all the flower of well-bred ceremony." Then raising her by the hand, he led her to a chair close by the d.u.c.h.ess, who also received her with much politeness.

During the ceremony, Don Quixote was silent, and Sancho, dying with impatience to see the face of the Trifaldi, or of some one of her many duennas; but it was impossible, till they chose to unveil themselves.

All was expectation, and not a whisper was heard, till at length the afflicted lady began in these words: "Confident I am, most potent lord, most beautiful lady, and most discreet spectators, that my most unfortunate miserableness will find in your generous and compa.s.sionate bowels a most merciful sanctuary; for so doleful and dolorous is my wretched state, that it is sufficient to mollify marble, to soften adamant, and melt down the steel of the hardest hearts. But before the rehearsal of my misfortunes is commenced, I earnestly desire to be informed whether this n.o.ble circle be adorned by the presence of that most renowned knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, and his squire Panza."

"That same Panza," said Sancho, before any one could answer, "stands here before you, and also Don Quixote; and therefore, most dolorous duenna, say what you will; for we are all ready to be your most humble servants." Upon this Don Quixote stood up, and addressing himself to the doleful countess, he said, "If your misfortunes, afflicted lady, can admit of remedy from the valour or fort.i.tude of a knight-errant, the little all that I possess shall be employed in your service. I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, whose function it is to relieve every species of distress; you need not, therefore, madam, implore benevolence, nor have recourse to preambles, but plainly and without circ.u.mlocution declare your grievances, for you have auditors who will bestow commiseration, if not redress." On hearing this, the afflicted duenna attempted to throw herself at Don Quixote's feet, and struggling to kiss them, said, "I prostrate myself, O invincible knight, before these feet and legs, which are the bases and pillars of knight-errantry, and will kiss these feet, whose steps lead to the end and termination of my misfortunes! O valorous errant, whose true exploits surpa.s.s and obscure the fabulous feats of the Amadises, Esplandians, and Belianises of old!" Then, leaving Don Quixote, she turned to Sancho Panza, and taking him by the hand, said, "O thou, the most trusty squire that ever served knight-errant in present or past ages, whose goodness is of greater extent than that beard of my usher Trifaldin; well mayest thou boast that, in serving Don Quixote, thou dost serve, in epitome, all the knights-errant that ever shone in the annals of chivalry! I conjure thee, by thy natural benevolence and inviolable fidelity, to intercede with my lord in my behalf, that the light of his favour may forthwith shine upon the humblest and unhappiest of countesses."

The duke and d.u.c.h.ess could scarcely preserve their gravity, and were highly pleased with the ingenuity of the Countess Trifaldi, who, having seated herself, thus began her tale of sorrow: "The famous kingdom of Candaya had for its queen the lady Donna Maguncia, widow of King Archipiela, who died, leaving the Infanta Antonomasia, their only child, heiress to the crown. This princess was brought up and educated under my care and instruction; I being the eldest and chief of the duennas in the household of her royal mother. Now, in process of time the young Antonomasia arrived at the age of fourteen, with such a perfection of beauty that nature could not raise it to a pitch higher; for she was as discreet as fair, and she was the fairest creature living; and so she still remains, if the envious fates and hard-hearted destinies have not cut short her thread of life. Her wondrous beauty attracted innumerable adorers; and princes of her own and every other nation became her slaves. Among the rest, a private cavalier of the court had the audacity to aspire to that earthly heaven; confiding in his youth, his gallantry, his sprightly and happy wit, with numerous other graces and qualifications. Indeed, I must confess to your highnesses, though with reverence be it spoken, he could touch the guitar to a miracle. He was, besides, a poet, and a fine dancer, and had so rare a talent for making bird-cages that he might have gained his living by it, in case of need. So many parts and elegant endowments were sufficient to have moved a mountain, much more the tender heart of a virgin. But all his graces and accomplishments would have proved ineffectual, had not the robber and ruffian first artfully contrived to make a conquest of me. The a.s.sa.s.sin and barbarous vagabond began with endeavouring to obtain my good will, and suborn my inclination, that I might betray my trust, and deliver up to him the keys of the fortress I guarded. In short, he so plied me with toys and trinkets, and so insinuated himself into my soul, that I was bewitched. But that which chiefly brought me down, and levelled me with the ground, was a copy of verses which I heard him sing one night under my window; and, if I remember right, the words were these:

'The tyrant fair whose beauty sent The throbbing mischief to my heart, The more my anguish to augment, Forbids me to reveal the smart.'

The words of his song were to me so many pearls, and his voice was sweeter than honey; and many a time since have I thought, reflecting on the evils I incurred, that poets--at least your amorous poets, should be banished from all good and well-regulated commonwealths; for, instead of composing pathetic verses like those of the Marquis of Mantua, which make women and children weep, they exercise their skill in soft strokes and tender touches, which pierce the soul, and, entering the body like lightning, consume all within, while the garment is left unsinged. Another time he sung:

'Come death, with gently stealing pace, And take me unperceived away, Nor let me see thy wished-for face, Lest joy my fleeting life should stay.'

Thus was I a.s.sailed with these and such like couplets, that astonish, and, when chanted, are bewitching. But when our poets deign to compose a kind of verses much in fashion with us, called roundelays--then, alas! they are no sooner heard than the whole frame is in a state of emotion: the soul is seized with a pleasing delirium of all the senses. I therefore say again, most n.o.ble auditors, that such versifiers deserve to be banished to the Isle of Lizards: though, in truth, the blame lies chiefly with the idiots who suffer themselves to be deluded by such things; and had I been a wise and discreet duenna, the nightly chanting of his verses would not have moved me, nor should I have lent an ear to such expressions as 'Dying I live; in ice I burn; I shiver in flames; in despair I hope; I fly, yet stay;' with other flimflams of the like stamp, of which such kind of writings are full. Then again, when they promise to bestow on us the Phoenix of Arabia, the crown of Ariadne, the ringlets of Apollo, the pearls of the South Sea, the gold of Tiber, and the balsam of Pencaya, how bountiful are their pens! how liberal in promises which they cannot perform! But, woe is me, unhappy wretch! Whither do I stray? What madness impels me to dwell on the faults of others, who have so many of mine own to answer for? Woe is me again, miserable creature! No, it was not his verses that vanquished me; but my own weakness; music did not subdue me; no, it was my own levity, my ignorance and lack of caution that melted me down, that opened the way and smoothed the pa.s.sage for Don Clavijo--for that is the name of the treacherous cavalier. Thus being made the go-between, the wicked man was often in the chamber of the--not by him, but by me, betrayed Antonomasia, as her lawful spouse: for, sinner as I am, never would I have consented unless he had been her true husband, that he should have come within the shadow of her shoe-string! No, no, marriage must be the forerunner of any business of this kind undertaken by me; the only mischief in the affair was that they were ill-sorted: Don Clavijo being but a private gentleman, and the Infanta Antonomasia, as I have already said, heiress of the kingdom.

"For some time this intercourse, enveloped in the sagacity of my circ.u.mspection, was concealed from every eye. At length we laid our three heads together, and determined that Don Clavijo should demand Antonomasia in marriage before the vicar, in virtue of a contract signed and given him by the infanta herself, to be his wife, and so worded by my wit that the force of Samson could not have broken through it. Our plan was immediately carried into execution; the vicar examined the contract, took the lady's confession, and she was placed in the custody of an honest alguazil." "Bless me," said Sancho, "alguazils too, and poets, and songs, and roundelays, in Candaya! I swear the world is the same every where! But pray get on, good Madam Trifaldi, for it grows late, and I am on thorns till I know the end of this long story." "I shall be brief," answered the countess.

CHAPTER LXIX.

_Wherein the Countess Trifaldi continues her stupendous and memorable history._

Every word uttered by Sancho was the cause of much delight to the d.u.c.h.ess, and disgust to Don Quixote, who having commanded him to hold his peace, the Afflicted went on. "After many questions and answers,"

said she, "the infanta stood firm to her engagement, without varying a t.i.ttle from her first declaration; the vicar therefore confirmed their union as lawful man and wife, which so affected the Queen Donna Maguncia, mother to the Infanta Antonomasia, that three days after we buried her." "She died then, I suppose," quoth Sancho. "a.s.suredly,"

replied the squire Trifaldin; "in Candaya we do not bury the living, but the dead." "Nevertheless," said Sancho, "it has happened before now, that people only in a swoon have been buried for dead; and methinks Queen Maguncia ought rather to have swooned than died in good earnest; for while there is life there is hope; and the young lady's offence was not so much out of the way that her mother should have taken it so to heart. Had she married one of her pages, or some serving-man of the family, as I have been told many have done, it would have been a bad business and past cure; but as she made choice of a well-bred young cavalier of such good parts,--faith and troth, though mayhap it was foolish, it was no such mighty matter; for, as my master says, bishops are made out of learned men, and why may not kings and emperors be made out of cavaliers, especially if they be errant?" "Thou art in the right, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for a knight-errant, with but two grains of good luck, is next in the order of promotion to the greatest lord in the world. But let the afflicted lady proceed; for I fancy the bitter part of this. .h.i.therto sweet story is still behind." "Bitter!" answered the countess, "ay, and so bitter that, in comparison, wormwood is sweet and rue savoury!

"The queen being really dead, and not in a swoon, we buried her; and scarcely had we covered her with earth and p.r.o.nounced the last farewell, when--'_Quis talia fando temperet a lacrymis?_'--lo, upon the queen's sepulchre, who should appear, mounted on a wooden horse, but her cousin-german the giant Malambruno! Yes, that cruel necromancer came expressly to revenge the death of his cousin, and to chastise the presumptuous Don Clavijo and the foolish Antonomasia, both of whom, by his cursed art, he instantly transformed,--her into a monkey of bra.s.s, and him into a frightful crocodile of some strange metal; fixing upon them at the same time a plate of metal engraven with Syriac characters; which being first rendered into the Candayan, and now into the Castilian language, have this meaning: 'These two presumptuous lovers shall not regain their pristine form till the valorous Manchegan engages with me in single combat; since for his mighty arm alone have the destinies reserved the achievement of that stupendous adventure.' No sooner was the wicked deed performed, than out he drew from its scabbard a dreadful scimitar; and, taking me by the hair of the head, he seemed preparing to cut my throat, or whip off my head at a blow. Though struck with horror, and almost speechless, trembling and weeping, I begged for mercy in such a moving tone and melting words, that I at last prevailed on him to stop the cruel execution which he meditated. In short, he ordered into his presence all the duennas of the palace,--being those you see here present,--and, after having expatiated on our fault, inveighed against duennas, their wicked plots, and worse intrigues, and reviled all for the crime of which I alone was guilty; he said, though he would vouchsafe to spare our lives, he would inflict on us a punishment that should be a lasting shame. At the same instant, we all felt the pores of our faces open, and a sharp pain all over them, like the p.r.i.c.king of needle-points; upon which we put our hands to our faces, and found them in the condition you shall now behold." Hereupon the afflicted lady and the rest of the duennas lifted up the veils which had hitherto concealed them, and discovered their faces planted with beards of all colours--black, brown, white, and pyebald. The duke and d.u.c.h.ess viewed the spectacle with surprise; and Don Quixote, Sancho, and the rest, were all lost in amazement. "Thus," continued the Trifaldi, "hath the wicked and evil-minded felon Malambruno punished us--covering our soft and delicate faces with these rugged bristles:--would to Heaven he had struck off our heads with his huge scimitar, rather than have obscured the light of our countenances with such an odious cloud!" Here, being overcome with the strong sense of her calamity, she fell into a swoon.

CHAPTER LXX.

_Which treats of matters relating and appertaining to this adventure, and to this memorable history._

The history then proceeds to relate, that when Sancho saw the afflicted lady faint away, he said, "Upon the word of an honest man, I swear I never heard or saw, nor has my master ever told me, nor did such an adventure as this ever enter into his thoughts! A thousand devils overtake thee--not to say curse thee--Malambruno, for an enchanter and giant! Couldst thou hit upon no other punishment for these poor creatures, than clapping beards upon them? Had it not been better to have whipt off half their noses, though they had snuffled for it, than to have covered their faces with scrubbing-brushes? And, what is worse, I'll wager a trifle they have not wherewithal to pay for shaving." "That is true, indeed, sir," answered one of the twelve; "we have not wherewithal to satisfy the barber; and therefore, some of us lay on plasters of pitch, which being pulled off with a jerk, take up roots and all, and thereby free us of this stubble for a while. As for the women who, in Candaya, go about from house to house, to take off the superfluous hairs of the body, and trim the eyebrows for ladies, we, the duennas of her ladyship, would never have any thing to do with them; for they are most of them no better than they should be; and therefore, if we are not relieved by Signor Don Quixote, with beards we shall live, and with beards be carried to our graves." "I would pluck off my own in the land of Moors," said Don Quixote, "if I failed to deliver you from yours."

"Ah, valorous knight!" cried the Trifaldi, having now recovered from her fainting-fit, addressing the knight: "Once again, then, ill.u.s.trious errant and invincible hero, let me beseech and pray that your gracious promises may be converted into deeds!" "The business shall not sleep with me," answered Don Quixote; "therefore say, madam, what I am to do, and you shall soon be convinced of my readiness to serve you." "Be it known, then, to you, sir," replied the afflicted dame, "that from this place to the kingdom of Candaya, by land, is computed to be about five thousand leagues, one or two more or less; but through the air in a direct line it is three thousand two hundred and twenty-seven. You are likewise to understand, that Malambruno told me that, whenever fortune should direct me to the knight who was to be our deliverer, he would send him a steed--not like the vicious jades let out for hire; but one of a very remarkable description, for it should be that very wooden horse upon which Peter of Provence carried off the fair Magalona, and which is governed by a peg in his forehead, serving instead of a bridle. This famous steed tradition reports to have been formed by the cunning hand of Merlin the enchanter, who sometimes allowed him to be used by his particular friends, or those who paid him handsomely; and he it was who lent him to his friend the valiant Peter, when, as I said before, he stole the fair Magalona; whisking her through the air behind him on the crupper, and leaving all that beheld him from the earth gaping with astonishment. Since the time of Peter to the present moment, we know of none that mounted him; but this we know, that Malambruno, by his art, has now got possession of him, and by his means posts about to every part of the world.

To-day he is here, to-morrow in France, and the next day in Potosi; and the best of it is, that this same horse neither eats nor sleeps, nor wants shoeing; and, without wings, he ambles so smoothly that, in his most rapid flight, the rider may carry in his hand a cupful of water without spilling a drop. No wonder, then, that the fair Magalona took such delight in riding him."

"As for easy going," quoth Sancho, "commend me to my Dapple, though he is no high-flyer; but by land I will match him against all the amblers in the world." The gravity of the company was disturbed for a moment by Sancho's observation; but the unhappy lady proceeded: "Now this horse," said she, "if it be Malambruno's intention that our misfortune should have an end, will be here this very evening; for he told me that the sign by which I should be a.s.sured of my having arrived in the presence of my deliverer would be, his sending me the horse thither with all convenient despatch." "And pray," quoth Sancho, "how many will that same horse carry?" "Two persons," answered the lady; "one in the saddle, and the other on the crupper; and generally these two persons are the knight and his squire, when there is no stolen damsel in the case." "I would fain know," quoth Sancho, "by what name he is called." "His name," answered the Trifaldi, "is not the same as the horse of Bellerophon, which was called Pegasus; nor is he called Bucephalus, like that of Alexander the Great; nor Brilladore, like that of Orlando Furioso; nor is it Bayarte, which belonged to Reynaldos of Montalvan; nor Frontino, which was the steed of Rogero; nor is it Bootes, nor Pyrois--names given, it is said, to horses of the sun; neither is he called Orelia, like the horse which the unfortunate Roderigo, the last king of the Goths in Spain, mounted in that battle wherein he lost his kingdom and his life." "I will venture a wager," quoth Sancho, "since they have given him none of these famous and well-known names, neither have they given him that of my master's horse, Rozinante, which in fitness goes beyond all the names you have mentioned." "It is very true," answered the bearded lady; "yet the name he bears is correct and significant; for he is called Clavileno el Aligero; whereby his miraculous peg, his wooden frame, and extraordinary speed are all curiously expressed; so that, in respect of his name, he may vie with the renowned Rozinante." "I dislike not his name," replied Sancho; "but with what bridle or with what halter is he guided?" "I have already told you," answered the Trifaldi, "that he is guided by a peg, which the rider turning this way and that, makes him go, either aloft in the air, or else sweeping, and, as it were, brushing the earth, or in the middle region--a course which the discreet and wise generally endeavour to keep." "I have a mighty desire to see him," quoth Sancho; "but to think I will get upon him, either in the saddle or behind upon the crupper, is to look for pears upon an elm-tree. It were a good jest, indeed, for me, who can hardly sit my own Dapple, though upon a pannel softer than silk, to think of bestriding a wooden crupper, without either pillow or cushion! In faith, I do not intend to flay myself, to unbeard the best lady in the land. Let every one shave or shear, as he likes best; I have no mind for so long a journey; my master may travel by himself.

Besides, I have nothing to do with it; I am not wanted for the taking off these beards, as well as the business of my lady Dulcinea."

"Indeed, my friend, you are," said the Trifaldi; "and so much need is there of your kind help, that without it nothing can be done." "In the name of all the saints," quoth Sancho, "what have squires to do with their masters' adventures? Are we always to share all the trouble, and they to reap all the glory? Body o' me, it might be something if the writers who recount their adventures would but set down in their books, 'such a knight achieved such an adventure, with the help of such an one his squire, without whom he could not have done it.' I say, it would be something if we had our due; but instead of this they coolly tell us that 'Don Paralipomenon of the three stars finished the notable adventure of the six goblins,' and the like, without once mentioning his squire, any more than if he had been a thousand miles off; though mayhap he, poor man, was in the thick of it all the while.

In truth, my good lord and lady, I say again, my master may manage this adventure by himself; and much good may it do him! I will stay with my lady d.u.c.h.ess here; and perhaps when he comes back he may find Madam Dulcinea's business pretty forward; for I intend at my leisure times to lay it on to some purpose."

"Nevertheless, honest Sancho," quoth the d.u.c.h.ess, "if your company be really necessary, you will not refuse to go: indeed, all good people will make it their business to entreat you; for piteous, truly, would it be, that through your groundless fears, these poor ladies should remain in this unseemly plight." "Ods my life!" exclaimed Sancho, "were this piece of charity undertaken for modest maidens, or poor charity-girls, a man might engage to undergo something; but to take all this trouble to rid duennas of their beards--plague take them! I had rather see the whole finical and squeamish tribe bearded, from the highest to the lowest of them!" "You seem to be upon bad terms with duennas, friend Sancho," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "and are of the same mind as the Toledan apothecary; but, in truth, you are in the wrong; for I have duennas in my family who might serve as models to all duennas; and here is my Donna Rodriguez, who will not allow me to say otherwise."

"Enough, your excellency," quoth Don Quixote; "as for you, Lady Trifaldi and your persecuted friends, I trust that Heaven will speedily look with a pitying eye upon your sorrows, and that Sancho will do his duty in obedience to my wishes. Would that Clavileno were here, and on his back Malambruno himself; for I am confident no razor would more easily shave your ladyships' beards, than my sword shall shave off Malambruno's head from his shoulders! If Heaven in its wisdom permits the wicked to prosper, it is but for a time." "Ah, valorous knight!" exclaimed the afflicted lady, "may all the stars of the celestial regions regard your excellency with eyes of benignity, and impart strength to your arm, and courage to your heart, to be the shield and refuge of the reviled and oppressed duennian order, abominated by apothecaries, calumniated by squires, and scoffed at by pages!"