However, before Sancho Panza had time to make up his mind whether to go or not, his master's sip of the balsam during the battle suddenly began to take effect, and Sancho's presence became for the moment a necessity. Having gone through this ordeal, Don Quixote rose and asked his squire for a remedy for hunger. It was then they discovered that the _alforjas_ had disappeared, with all its precious contents. Both were dejected. Don Quixote tried to impart, out of the abundance of his optimism for the future, new hope to the discouraged Sancho. It was a difficult task, and he might have failed, had not the loss of his teeth and the sorry plight he was in made Sancho sway from his intentions of home-going. When, at his master's request, the squire put his finger in Don Quixote's mouth in order to learn the extent of the damage done in that region of his body, his heart was touched by the terrible devastation there. He could not, of course, leave his master to shift for himself on the highways in such a condition. So he consented to remain, and they proceeded along the road, hoping that they would soon come to a place where they could find shelter for the night, as well as something with which to still their hunger.

CHAPTER XIX

OF THE SHREWD DISCOURSE WHICH SANCHO HELD WITH HIS MASTER, AND OF THE ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL HIM WITH A DEAD BODY, TOGETHER WITH OTHER NOTABLE OCCURRENCES

Night had fallen, yet they had discovered no place of refuge.

Suddenly, in the darkness, they saw a number of lights that came closer and closer without their being able to make out what it was.

Sancho commenced to shake like a leaf, and even Don Quixote was frightened and muttered a paternoster between his teeth while his hair stood on end. They withdrew to the roadside, from where they soon distinguished twenty bodies on horseback, all dressed in white shirts, and carrying lighted torches in their hands. With chattering teeth Sancho stared at this awe-inspiring procession, which was not yet at an end, for behind the mounted bodies there came others, these in black and on mule-back, and surrounding a bier, covered with a large black cloth. All the while a quiet, solemn mumbling came from the moving figures, and Sancho Panza was now so stricken with fear that he was almost paralyzed.

Don Quixote's courage--which likewise had been rather shaky at this pa.s.sing of ghostlike beings, at such a time of the night--suddenly revived and mounted to such heights that he decided he would ask where they were carrying the wounded king on the bier. This he did without delay. But such a question seemed silly and out of place to one of the guardians of the corpse, and he commanded the knight to move on.

This angered Don Quixote beyond measure. He seized the man's mule by the bridle; but this, in turn, annoyed the mule, which rose on its hind legs and flung its rider to the ground. Another man came up to Don Quixote and tried to talk reason to him, but to no avail, and in the disturbance that followed the procession was soon scattered over the fields and plains, with torches glimmering from all points like so many eyes in the black night.

While our knight errant was lunging with his spear in all directions, the meek followers of the dead body became ensnared in their skirts and gowns and long white shirts, and fell head over heels wherever they happened to be, in ditch or field. Moans, groans, and prayers were intermingled, and they all were convinced that the procession had been interrupted by the devil himself, come to carry away the body of the dead man.

When the battle had ceased, Don Quixote approached the man who was flung by his mule, to make him his prisoner. The poor man declared that Don Quixote had made a grave mistake; that the dead man was not a king and had not fallen in battle, but a gentleman who had died from fever; and he himself was a poor servant of the Holy Church who could harm no one. On hearing this confession Don Quixote made a slight apology for having mistaken him in the dark for something evil, if not for the very devil, explaining that since it was his sworn duty to right all wrongs, he had only set out to do so. But the worthy ecclesiastic was not easily appeased, and before making his departure, he unceremoniously excommunicated his attacker in flowing and flourishing Latin.

Sancho, moved by a desire to alleviate the sting of the outburst, called out after him: "If the gentleman should wish to know who was the hero who served them thus, your worship may tell them he is the famous Don Quixote of La Mancha, otherwise called the Knight of the Rueful Countenance."

Don Quixote asked his squire why he called him thus; and Sancho replied that the loss of his teeth had given his master a face so sorry looking that he could find no milder name to describe its ugliness. Don Quixote laughed at the compliment; nevertheless he decided to adopt Sancho's meaning name, and also to have his own rueful face commemorated on his shield at the first opportunity.

After this conversation Sancho persuaded his master to continue their journey; although Don Quixote was eager to view the bones of the deceased man, and Sancho had some difficulty in preventing him from doing so.

Sancho had made his coat into a sack and filled it with the provisions of the clergy; and so, when they arrived in a valley where they found an abundance of gra.s.s, they ate all the meals they had been missing.

Their repast would have been complete had they had some wine; but they did not have even water.

CHAPTER XX

OF THE UNEXAMPLED AND UNHEARD-OF ADVENTURE WHICH WAS ACHIEVED BY THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA WITH LESS PERIL THAN ANY EVER ACHIEVED BY ANY FAMOUS KNIGHT IN THE WORLD

Sancho's thirst drove him to use his instincts in search for drink. He judged by the rank gra.s.s that there must be water nearby. So, leading their mounts, Don Quixote and Sancho came in the darkness to a meadow, and they had gone only a short distance when they heard the welcome sound of falling water. Then suddenly a most tremendous, ear-splitting noise came out of the darkness, a din like the beating of gigantic hammers, and added to this a shifting wind. All these furious sounds, the mystery of them, and the blackness of the night, might have intimidated any heart, however stout; but it only made Don Quixote leap like a flash upon his horse. Turning to Sancho, he cried: "I am he who is to revive the Knights of the Round Table, the Twelve of France, and the Nine Worthies; he who is to consign to oblivion the whole herd of famous knights errant of days gone by; he for whom all great perils and mighty deeds are reserved. Therefore, tighten Rocinante's girth a little, and G.o.d be with thee! Wait for me three days and no more. If in that time I come not back, thou canst return to our village, and thence thou wilt go to El Toboso, where thou shalt say to my incomparable Lady Dulcinea that her captive knight hath died in attempting things that might make him worthy of being called her own."

These words made Sancho weep copious tears, and he begged his master not to undertake so dreadful an adventure. He even offered to sacrifice himself to such an extent as to go without water for three days, if his master would only return. When Don Quixote was firm in his resolve, Sancho decided that this was a case where the ends justified the means; therefore while tightening Rocinante's girth, he tied the horse's forelegs, so that when Don Quixote was going to ride off, his charger could move only by fits and starts. The more his rider spurred him, the more impossible it became for Rocinante to stir. Sancho had no great difficulty in persuading his master that this was a sign from above that he ought not to pursue any phantom adventure at that hour of the night, but wait until daybreak. Don Quixote resigned himself to do so, although it nearly made him weep, while Sancho tried to soothe his outraged feelings by telling amusing stories in a laborious way.

At daybreak Sancho stole over to Rocinante and untied his legs. The horse immediately became spirited, and when Don Quixote saw this, he believed it a sign from heaven. Again he took a touching leave of his squire--who began to cry, as he had done before--and gave the spur to his steed. Sancho was resolved to follow his master to the end, so he took his donkey by the halter, as was his custom, and led him on foot in pursuit of his knight errant.

They pa.s.sed through a meadow that was fringed with trees, then came upon some huge rocks with cascades of water pouring over them. Below stood a row of dilapidated houses. It was from these houses that the din and noise emanated. As Rocinante came close to the racket, he began to make hysterical movements, pirouetting backward and forward, and Don Quixote crossed himself, commending himself to G.o.d and his Lady Dulcinea.

Coming up cautiously from behind the houses, Don Quixote peered around the corner, and there beheld the cause of the awe-inspiring din--six hammers of the kind that were used in mills.

Sancho could not help himself. He burst into uncontrollable laughter, shaking from head to foot. Don Quixote was mortified with shame and astonishment. And when he heard Sancho's laughter behind him, he broke into a rage, during which he repeated almost every word he had spoken the night before, when he was about to ride away to adventure on a three-legged horse. But Sancho was helpless. Four distinct times he broke into a fit of mirth, and finally his master struck him a blow on the body with his spear. Then he calmed down, and Don Quixote scolded him for his hilarity, saying that no such familiarity would be tolerated in the future. He quoted various chapters from books of chivalry, and cited Gandalin, squire to Amadis of Gaul. There, he said, was a model squire, for he would always address his lord with cap in hand, his head bowed down and his body bent double. And there were many others to look to. He mentioned a few, the most shining examples. Then he decreed that from that day on respect must be the barrier between squire and knight in all their intercourse. He spoke also about his squire's wages and the treasures and islands that were to be his in time to come. He told Sancho not to worry, for if he should not pay him his wages, he had at any rate mentioned him in his will. From the first he had considered everything; he knew the world, and what a hazardous task he had set before himself.

CHAPTER XXI

WHICH TREATS OF THE EXALTED ADVENTURE AND RICH PRIZE OF MAMBRINO'S HELMET, TOGETHER WITH OTHER THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO OUR INVINCIBLE KNIGHT

It started to rain, and Sancho suggested the fulling-mills as a place of refuge; but Don Quixote had taken such an aversion to them that he would not listen to it, and they continued riding, taking the roadway.

Suddenly they saw a man on horseback, who had on his head something that shone like gold, and at once Don Quixote exclaimed: "There comes towards us one who wears on his head the helmet of Mambrino, concerning which I took the oath thou rememberest."

Sancho's only reply to this was that he did not want anything more to do with any fulling-mills; and his master entirely failed to fathom the connection. Sancho then said he could plainly see that the man's horse was an a.s.s and that the man had something on his head that shone.

The truth of the matter was that in the neighborhood were two villages so small that the apothecary and barbershop in one of them had to serve for both. The village barber had just been summoned to shave and bleed a patient in the adjoining community, so he mounted his a.s.s, armed with a bra.s.s basin for the bleeding, and set off. He had got about half-way, when it commenced to rain. Having a new hat, he covered it with the clean basin, that glittered like gold.

But Don Quixote had more sense than his squire, of course, and pursued the unknown knight with the helmet at Rocinante's wildest gallop. When the fear-stricken barber realized that Don Quixote's uplifted spear was aimed at him, he promptly threw himself from his a.s.s and ran all the way home without stopping, leaving his bra.s.s basin behind as a trophy for our hero, who could not understand why this helmet had no visor.

"That pagan must have had a very large head," remarked Don Quixote, turning the basin round and round, trying to fit it to his own head, now this way, now that.

"It looks exactly like a barber's basin," said Sancho Panza, who had all he could do to keep from bursting into laughter.

Don Quixote treated this blasphemous thought with scorn, and said he would stop at the next smithy to have its shape changed. His next concern was his stomach; and when they found that the barber's a.s.s carried ample supplies, they soon satisfied their appet.i.tes. Sancho now turned the conversation to the rest of the spoils of war; but Don Quixote was unable to make up his mind that it was chivalrous to exchange a bad a.s.s for a good one, as was his squire's wish; so Sancho had to satisfy himself with the barber's trappings.

Then they set out again. Soon Sancho felt the need of unburdening something he had had on his heart for some time. He suggested that instead of roaming about seeking adventures which no one ever witnessed and which therefore remained unsung and unheralded, they go and serve some great emperor engaged in war, so that their achievements and valor might go down to posterity. This struck a resonant chord in his master's heart. In fact, he went into raptures over it, and commenced to rant about all the great honors the future had in store for the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. He cunningly surmised that their first task would be to find a king who had an uncommonly beautiful daughter, for of course he had to marry a princess first of all. The plan excited him to such an extent that for a moment he forgot about the existence of his Dulcinea.

The only thing that worried him was his royal lineage; he could not think of any emperor or king whose second cousin he might be. Yet he decided not to trouble too much about that; for were there not two kinds of lineages in the world? And Love always worked wonders: it had since the beginning of time. What would the princess care, if he _were_ a water-carrier's son? And if his future father-in-law should object, all he would have to do would be to carry her off by force.

As Don Quixote went on picturing himself in the most romantic roles in the history of this as yet unknown kingdom, Sancho began to think it was time for him to be considered as well, when it came to bestowals of honor. Once he had been beadle of a brotherhood, and he had looked so well in a beadle's gown, he said, that he was afraid his wife would burst with pride when she saw him in a duke's robe, with gold and lace and precious stones. Don Quixote thought so, too, but admonished him that he would have to shave his beard oftener, as it was most unkempt.

Sancho replied that would be an easy matter, for he would have a barber of his own, as well as an equerry; he knew that all men of fame kept such a man, for once in Madrid he had seen a gentleman followed by a man on horseback as if he had been his tail. He inquired why the gentleman was being followed in that manner and learned it was his equerry. Don Quixote thought Sancho's idea to have a barber was an excellent one, and Sancho urged his master to make haste and find him his island, that he might roll in his glory as a count or a duke.

CHAPTER XXII

OF THE FREEDOM DON QUIXOTE CONFERRED ON SEVERAL UNFORTUNATES WHO AGAINST THEIR WILL WERE BEING CARRIED WHERE THEY HAD NO WISH TO GO

Hardly had they finished their conversation, when a gang of convicts came along on the road, guarded by two men on horseback and two on foot.

"Galley-slaves," remarked Sancho Panza laconically.

"If they are going against their own free will, it is a case for the exercise of my office," answered Don Quixote.

He approached their custodians and asked to know what crimes these men had committed against his majesty the King. They answered it was not his business.

"Nevertheless, I should like to know," insisted Don Quixote, and he used such choice and magic language that one of the guards was induced to give him permission to ask each one of the men about his crime and sentence.

Don Quixote had questioned every one but the twelfth, and when he came to him he found that he was chained in a way different from the rest.

This prisoner was a man of thirty, and crossed-eyed. His body was weighted down by very large irons and especially heavy chains, his hands were padlocked and so secured he could not raise them. Don Quixote asked why he was thus overburdened, and got the reply that he had committed more crimes than all the rest together. The guard then told the knight that the man had written a story of his unfinished life, and that he was no other than the famous Gines de Pasamonte. The culprit strongly objected to hearing his ident.i.ty mentioned, and there ensued a furious battle of words between him and the guard. The latter lost his temper and was about to strike the slave a blow, when Don Quixote interfered, and pleaded for more kindly treatment. It seemed only fair to him that they, with their hands tied, might be permitted a free tongue. He grew fiery in his defense of them, reminded the guard that there was a G.o.d in heaven who would punish all sinners. He ended by requesting their immediate release.