OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS THE INCOMPARABLE DON QUIXOTE SAID HE SAW IN THE PROFOUND CAVE OF MONTESINOS, THE IMPOSSIBILITY AND MAGNITUDE OF WHICH CAUSE THIS ADVENTURE TO BE APOCRYPHAL

When he was being hoisted down, Don Quixote said, he had suddenly landed on a precipice which led to a cave within the cave, large enough to hold a team of mules and a cart. There, he claimed, he fell asleep, only to wake and find himself in a beautiful field, from where he had gone on a regular sightseeing trip, visiting the most wonderful castles and palaces, and meeting with the most exalted personages.

Among these was no other than the enchanted Montesinos himself. He had taken Don Quixote into his own palace, built of crystal and alabaster, and shown him the tomb of his friend Durandarte, who lay there in his enchantment, with his hairy hand over his heart. Don Quixote had asked whether it were indeed true that he, Montesinos, had cut out the heart of his dead friend, as the story had told, and brought it to his Lady Belerma, and Montesinos had nodded in affirmation.

Suddenly they had heard the poor dead knight moan in the most heartrending way, and he had asked Montesinos again and again whether he had done as he had bade him and carried his heart to his Lady Belerma in France. Montesinos had fallen on his knees and had a.s.sured his cousin with tearful eyes that as soon as he had died he had cut out his heart with a poniard, dried it with a lace handkerchief as well as he could, and then departed to see his Lady. At the first village he had come to in France, he had stopped to sprinkle some salt on it to keep it fresh, and had given it to the Lady Belerma, who was now also enchanted in this cave.

Don Quixote continued his tale. The enchanter, the sage Merlin, so Montesinos had said, had prophesied that he, Don Quixote, reviver of knight-errantry, was to be the one to disenchant them all. He and Montesinos had almost come to blows, however, when the latter had inferred that during her enchantment the Lady Belerma had developed large circles under her eyes, and that if it had not been for these her beauty would have surpa.s.sed even that of the famous Lady Dulcinea of El Toboso. But Montesinos was courteous enough to apologize and acknowledge the truth of the proverb which says that comparisons are odious.

Sancho and the young author of books had some difficulty in persuading themselves that all these things had happened in so short a time, for Don Quixote had only been gone about an hour; but Don Quixote, hearing this, insisted that he had been absent three days and three nights.

Then he proceeded to tell how he had felt no hunger whatever, that none down there ever ate, and that the enchanted never slept; he admitted, however, that their nails, hair, and beards grew.

When Sancho heard all this he asked to be forgiven by G.o.d for saying he thought his master was lying, but the next moment he had retracted it, and when his master asked what he really meant, he said he did not know.

There was one thing that had happened to our knight in the cave, which caused him infinite pain; he had met one of the enchanted ladies-in-waiting to his Lady Dulcinea, and she had told him in confidence that his beloved one wanted to borrow six reals on a petticoat which she had bought. He gave her all that he had, which amounted to only four reals, and she gave him in exchange her lady's blessing, saying that with it went many kisses. As she left him, he said, she had cut a caper and had sprung fully two yards into the air.

"O blessed G.o.d," cried Sancho, "is it possible that enchantments can have such power as to have changed my master's right senses into a craze so full of absurdity? O Senor, Senor, consider yourself! Have a care for your honor, and give no credit to this silly stuff that has left you scant and short of wits."

"Thou talkest in this way because thou lovest me, Sancho," said Don Quixote; and he ascribed his squire's incredulity to a lack of knowledge of the world and a.s.sured him that when the time came he would tell him even more that took place in the cave, which would make him believe what he now doubted.

CHAPTER XXIV

WHEREIN ARE RELATED SOME TRIFLING MATTERS, AS TRIVIAL AS THEY ARE NECESSARY TO THE RIGHT UNDERSTANDING OF THIS GREAT HISTORY

The scholar was surprised that Don Quixote permitted his servant to talk to him in this way, but ascribed his lenience to the good mood he was in.

After having whiled away still another hour talking pleasantly, they proceeded to find a place where they might spend the night. The scholar knew of a hermitage not very far off; and on their way there they encountered a man with a mule that was loaded with halberds and lances.

Don Quixote was curious to know where he was taking the weapons, but the man answered that he was in great haste to reach the inn beyond the hermitage. He would spend the night at this inn, he said, and if they happened to be there too, he would tell them some things that were both interesting and curious. Don Quixote was so inquisitive that he decided to pa.s.s by the hermitage and go to the inn instead.

Just before coming to the inn, they met a happy looking lad of eighteen or nineteen, who carried a sword over his shoulder and a bundle on his back. Don Quixote stopped him and asked where he was going; and the lad replied that he was going to war for his king. He told the knight how he had been in the service of office-seekers and adventurers in Madrid until he had tired of such a life; and this pleased Don Quixote so much that he invited him to sit behind him on Rocinante and ride with him to the inn to sup with him. But the page, seeing the leanness of the knight's steed, said he preferred to walk, though he was glad to accept the invitation for supper.

As soon as they had arrived at the inn, Don Quixote asked the landlord for the man with the lances and halberds; and Sancho was happy to know that his master took this inn for an inn and not for an enchanted castle.

CHAPTER XXV

WHEREIN IS SET DOWN THE BRAYING ADVENTURE, AND THE DROLL ONE OF THE PUPPET-SHOWMEN, TOGETHER WITH THE MEMORABLE DIVINATIONS OF THE DIVINING APE

Don Quixote found the man with the arms feeding his mule in the stable, and he asked the knight to accompany him to a quiet nook when he had finished this duty to his beast. But Don Quixote's curiosity knew no bounds, and he offered to help him sift the barley so that he might begin his story at once. Being a good-natured fellow, the man acquiesced. He related how a magistrate in his village, which was four leagues and a half away, had lost a donkey through the carelessness of a servant. Some weeks later another magistrate of the same village was hunting in the woods, and when he returned he brought word to his fellow officer that he had come across the lost beast but that he was now so wild that no one could approach him. He suggested, however, that they go together in search for him; and they developed a plan whereby they thought they should surely be able to capture the animal.

Both of them were expert in braying, and they decided to place themselves at different ends of the forest, each one braying at intervals. In this way they thought they should be able to round up the donkey, for they were certain that he would answer their calls.

But it so happened that both of them brayed at the same time, and when they ran to look, convinced that the donkey had turned up, they found not the a.s.s but only each other, so naturally had they brayed. They tried the same scheme again and again, but every time with the same result; and at last they came in this way to a place in the woods where they found the dead donkey devoured by wolves.

The story of the two magistrates going about in the forest braying to each other like a.s.ses soon spread to the villages in the county; and in one village in particular the habit of braying whenever they observed any one from the village of the braying magistrates took such root that it was decided to teach them a lesson by taking arms against them. The arms he carried with him now, he said, were to be used against these scoffers, that they might never again behave like a.s.ses.

He had just finished his story when some one entered and cried out that the show of _The Release of Melisendra_ and the divining ape were coming to the inn, and a minute later Master Pedro himself came into the yard, where he was greeted by the landlord and all the guests. Master Pedro's one eye was covered by a piece of green silk; Don Quixote judged by this that something had befallen him by accident. He asked the landlord to tell him all he knew of Master Pedro, and he learned that he traveled with his puppet-show from town to town, and was greatly renowned throughout the provinces as a showman. And the ape, the innkeeper said, was like a human being, so clever was he, and wise.

Soon the show was in readiness inside, and every one gathered around Master Pedro and his divining ape. Don Quixote and Sancho were eager to have their fortunes told, and both offered their reals at the same time; but Master Pedro refused to take any money until the ape had rendered satisfactory service.

The ape jumped up on his master's shoulder, and began to chatter his teeth as if he were saying something, all the while keeping his mouth close to Master Pedro's ear. When he had been chattering long enough to please himself, he jumped down just as quickly as he had jumped up.

The next instant Don Quixote and Sancho were both frightened and awed by the showman's suddenly throwing himself before Don Quixote's feet and embracing his legs, while he exclaimed: "These legs do I embrace as I would embrace the two pillars of Hercules, O ill.u.s.trious reviver of knight-errantry, O prop of the tottering, so long consigned to oblivion!" But not only were the knight and the squire aghast; the landlord and the guests were as startled as they were, for they had never seen Master Pedro act like that before.

But the showman had not finished, for in the next moment he lay at the feet of Sancho, to whom the divining ape brought cheer from his Teresa, saying that she was just soothing her feelings by indulging in wine from a pitcher which she was holding in her left hand and that had a broken spout.

Don Quixote was not very well pleased with this exhibition, for he thought it decidedly out of place that an ape should know more than he or any other human being; and he confided to Sancho that the ape was possessed by the devil. He brought Sancho to a dark corner in the stable where he was sure no one could overhear them, and told him there that he was convinced Master Pedro had made a bargain with the devil to get rich through the ape, and then sell him his soul, and he said it surprised him beyond words that the Holy Office had not already interfered with this dastardly scheme.

At this point Master Pedro came in search of Don Quixote, as the show was about to begin. Before entering the inn, however, Sancho entreated his master to ask the ape whether what he saw in the cave of Montesinos was true. Don Quixote did so, and the ape answered that some of it was true, some of it was not; and immediately Sancho scornfully broke in and said that he had told him so already. The ape intimated that by next Friday he should be able to tell more about the adventure; his mind was tired now.

They entered and found the stage set for the performance; the tapers of wax were lit, it was a bright and beautiful scene. Master Pedro disappeared and took his place behind the scenes, for he was the one who created the life in the puppets. A lad who acted as interpreter, calling out the scenes and describing the action of the play, placed himself outside the theater. Don Quixote, Sancho, the page, and the scholar seated themselves in the front row; and the show began.

CHAPTER XXVI

WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE DROLL ADVENTURE OF THE PUPPET-SHOWMAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGS IN TRUTH RIGHT GOOD

The play, which depicted how Melisendra was released by her husband, Senor Don Gaiferos, from the hands of the Moors in the city of Sansuena, now called Saragossa, had only proceeded a short way when Don Quixote became impatient with the young man who was making the explanations to the audience. The knight thought he drifted into unnecessary and superfluous language, and was quick to reprimand him.

The show was continued, and again Don Quixote broke in, criticising some of the stage effects: bells were never used by the Moors, only kettledrums, he said. But here Master Pedro begged him not to be so particular, pleading that the show was given for the sake of amus.e.m.e.nt.

Don Quixote acceded, and the show began again.

But it was not long before a number of hors.e.m.e.n were galloping across the stage in pursuit of the two lovers. Their escape was accompanied by such blowing of horns and trumpets and beating of drums, that the noise and din of it all were too much for the poor knight's imagination which was now stirred to such a pitch that he believed himself in the midst of a real battle. He drew his sword and plunged against the Moorish horseman with such vehemence and force, cutting and slashing in all directions, that every one in the room was aghast at his madness, and ran to hide in safety. Master Pedro came within an inch of having his ear, not to say his whole head, cut off, and Don Quixote's fury was not at an end until he had decapitated all the Moorish pasteboard figures. Lucky it was that no blood could flow from them, or there would have been a plentiful stream of it. The ape took refuge on the roof, frightened out of his poor wits, and even Sancho Panza was more than ordinarily shaken with fear, for he admitted that he had never seen his master so wrought up.

When Don Quixote was certain of complete victory--in other words, destruction--he turned and addressed those who had dared to return after the storm: "I wish I had here before me now all those who do not or will not believe how useful knights errant are in the world. Just think, if I had not been here present, what would have become of the brave Don Gaiferos and the fair Melisendra!"

But Master Pedro was lamenting the loss of all his emperors and kings and knights and horses, and Sancho was so touched by what he said it would cost him to buy a new show, that he pleaded with his master to make rest.i.tution; and, although Don Quixote could not see that he had done any wrong, he generously ordered his squire to pay Master Pedro the sum of forty reals and three quarters, the landlord having duly functioned as arbiter and agreed that that was a fair price for the damage done to the figures. Besides this amount, Master Pedro was allotted two reals for his trouble in catching the ape.

While they were summing up, Don Quixote, however, had only one thought in his mind. He was wondering whether Melisendra and her husband had reached safety by this time: so possessed was he of his infernal imagination. Master Pedro promised him that as soon as he had caught his ape, he would put the question to him; and the showman began to worry about his African companion, hoping that he would soon be hungry, for then he would know whether he was still alive.

The rest of the evening was pa.s.sed in peace, and drinking at Don Quixote's expense, and soon it was morning, and the man with the halberds took his departure. The scholar and the page left, too, and Don Quixote generously gave the page twelve reals. But the first one to depart was the showman: he was afraid that the knight might have another outbreak, and he had no desire to experience it twice, and perhaps lose his ape, which he had now caught.

The landlord was extremely pleased with Don Quixote's generosity, and was sorry to see him depart; but his madness he could make neither head nor tail of, for he had never seen any one thus afflicted.

CHAPTER XXVII

WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN WHO MASTER PEDRO AND HIS APE WERE, TOGETHER WITH THE MISHAP DON QUIXOTE HAD IN THE BRAYING ADVENTURE, WHICH HE DID NOT CONCLUDE AS HE WOULD HAVE LIKED OR AS HE HAD EXPECTED