Title: The History of Don Quixote, Volume 2, Part 32
Author: Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de, 1547-1616
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The History of Don Quixote, Volume 2, Part 32" ***


                           DON QUIXOTE

                            Volume II.

                             Part 32.

                     by Miguel de Cervantes


                    Translated by John Ormsby



CHAPTER XLVI.

OF THE TERRIBLE BELL AND CAT FRIGHT THAT DON QUIXOTE GOT IN THE COURSE OF
THE ENAMOURED ALTISIDORA'S WOOING


We left Don Quixote wrapped up in the reflections which the music of the
enamourned maid Altisidora had given rise to. He went to bed with them,
and just like fleas they would not let him sleep or get a moment's rest,
and the broken stitches of his stockings helped them. But as Time is
fleet and no obstacle can stay his course, he came riding on the hours,
and morning very soon arrived. Seeing which Don Quixote quitted the soft
down, and, nowise slothful, dressed himself in his chamois suit and put
on his travelling boots to hide the disaster to his stockings. He threw
over him his scarlet mantle, put on his head a montera of green velvet
trimmed with silver edging, flung across his shoulder the baldric with
his good trenchant sword, took up a large rosary that he always carried
with him, and with great solemnity and precision of gait proceeded to the
antechamber where the duke and duchess were already dressed and waiting
for him. But as he passed through a gallery, Altisidora and the other
damsel, her friend, were lying in wait for him, and the instant
Altisidora saw him she pretended to faint, while her friend caught her in
her lap, and began hastily unlacing the bosom of her dress.

Don Quixote observed it, and approaching them said, "I know very well
what this seizure arises from."

"I know not from what," replied the friend, "for Altisidora is the
healthiest damsel in all this house, and I have never heard her complain
all the time I have known her. A plague on all the knights-errant in the
world, if they be all ungrateful! Go away, Senor Don Quixote; for this
poor child will not come to herself again so long as you are here."

To which Don Quixote returned, "Do me the favour, senora, to let a lute
be placed in my chamber to-night; and I will comfort this poor maiden to
the best of my power; for in the early stages of love a prompt
disillusion is an approved remedy;" and with this he retired, so as not
to be remarked by any who might see him there.

He had scarcely withdrawn when Altisidora, recovering from her swoon,
said to her companion, "The lute must be left, for no doubt Don Quixote
intends to give us some music; and being his it will not be bad."

They went at once to inform the duchess of what was going on, and of the
lute Don Quixote asked for, and she, delighted beyond measure, plotted
with the duke and her two damsels to play him a trick that should be
amusing but harmless; and in high glee they waited for night, which came
quickly as the day had come; and as for the day, the duke and duchess
spent it in charming conversation with Don Quixote.

When eleven o'clock came, Don Quixote found a guitar in his chamber; he
tried it, opened the window, and perceived that some persons were walking
in the garden; and having passed his fingers over the frets of the guitar
and tuned it as well as he could, he spat and cleared his chest, and then
with a voice a little hoarse but full-toned, he sang the following
ballad, which he had himself that day composed:

Mighty Love the hearts of maidens
  Doth unsettle and perplex,
And the instrument he uses
  Most of all is idleness.

Sewing, stitching, any labour,
  Having always work to do,
To the poison Love instilleth
  Is the antidote most sure.

And to proper-minded maidens
  Who desire the matron's name
Modesty's a marriage portion,
  Modesty their highest praise.

Men of prudence and discretion,
  Courtiers gay and gallant knights,
With the wanton damsels dally,
  But the modest take to wife.

There are passions, transient, fleeting,
  Loves in hostelries declar'd,
Sunrise loves, with sunset ended,
  When the guest hath gone his way.

Love that springs up swift and sudden,
  Here to-day, to-morrow flown,
Passes, leaves no trace behind it,
  Leaves no image on the soul.

Painting that is laid on painting
  Maketh no display or show;
Where one beauty's in possession
  There no other can take hold.

Dulcinea del Toboso
  Painted on my heart I wear;
Never from its tablets, never,
  Can her image be eras'd.

The quality of all in lovers
  Most esteemed is constancy;
'T is by this that love works wonders,
  This exalts them to the skies.

Don Quixote had got so far with his song, to which the duke, the duchess,
Altisidora, and nearly the whole household of the castle were listening,
when all of a sudden from a gallery above that was exactly over his
window they let down a cord with more than a hundred bells attached to
it, and immediately after that discharged a great sack full of cats,
which also had bells of smaller size tied to their tails. Such was the
din of the bells and the squalling of the cats, that though the duke and
duchess were the contrivers of the joke they were startled by it, while
Don Quixote stood paralysed with fear; and as luck would have it, two or
three of the cats made their way in through the grating of his chamber,
and flying from one side to the other, made it seem as if there was a
legion of devils at large in it. They extinguished the candles that were
burning in the room, and rushed about seeking some way of escape; the
cord with the large bells never ceased rising and falling; and most of
the people of the castle, not knowing what was really the matter, were at
their wits' end with astonishment. Don Quixote sprang to his feet, and
drawing his sword, began making passes at the grating, shouting out,
"Avaunt, malignant enchanters! avaunt, ye witchcraft-working rabble! I am
Don Quixote of La Mancha, against whom your evil machinations avail not
nor have any power." And turning upon the cats that were running about
the room, he made several cuts at them. They dashed at the grating and
escaped by it, save one that, finding itself hard pressed by the slashes
of Don Quixote's sword, flew at his face and held on to his nose tooth
and nail, with the pain of which he began to shout his loudest. The duke
and duchess hearing this, and guessing what it was, ran with all haste to
his room, and as the poor gentleman was striving with all his might to
detach the cat from his face, they opened the door with a master-key and
went in with lights and witnessed the unequal combat. The duke ran
forward to part the combatants, but Don Quixote cried out aloud, "Let no
one take him from me; leave me hand to hand with this demon, this wizard,
this enchanter; I will teach him, I myself, who Don Quixote of La Mancha
is." The cat, however, never minding these threats, snarled and held on;
but at last the duke pulled it off and flung it out of the window. Don
Quixote was left with a face as full of holes as a sieve and a nose not
in very good condition, and greatly vexed that they did not let him
finish the battle he had been so stoutly fighting with that villain of an
enchanter. They sent for some oil of John's wort, and Altisidora herself
with her own fair hands bandaged all the wounded parts; and as she did so
she said to him in a low voice. "All these mishaps have befallen thee,
hardhearted knight, for the sin of thy insensibility and obstinacy; and
God grant thy squire Sancho may forget to whip himself, so that that
dearly beloved Dulcinea of thine may never be released from her
enchantment, that thou mayest never come to her bed, at least while I who
adore thee am alive."

To all this Don Quixote made no answer except to heave deep sighs, and
then stretched himself on his bed, thanking the duke and duchess for
their kindness, not because he stood in any fear of that bell-ringing
rabble of enchanters in cat shape, but because he recognised their good
intentions in coming to his rescue. The duke and duchess left him to
repose and withdrew greatly grieved at the unfortunate result of the
joke; as they never thought the adventure would have fallen so heavy on
Don Quixote or cost him so dear, for it cost him five days of confinement
to his bed, during which he had another adventure, pleasanter than the
late one, which his chronicler will not relate just now in order that he
may turn his attention to Sancho Panza, who was proceeding with great
diligence and drollery in his government.



CHAPTER XLVII.

WHEREIN IS CONTINUED THE ACCOUNT OF HOW SANCHO PANZA CONDUCTED HIMSELF IN
HIS GOVERNMENT


The history says that from the justice court they carried Sancho to a
sumptuous palace, where in a spacious chamber there was a table laid out
with royal magnificence. The clarions sounded as Sancho entered the room,
and four pages came forward to present him with water for his hands,
which Sancho received with great dignity. The music ceased, and Sancho
seated himself at the head of the table, for there was only that seat
placed, and no more than one cover laid. A personage, who it appeared
afterwards was a physician, placed himself standing by his side with a
whalebone wand in his hand. They then lifted up a fine white cloth
covering fruit and a great variety of dishes of different sorts; one who
looked like a student said grace, and a page put a laced bib on Sancho,
while another who played the part of head carver placed a dish of fruit
before him. But hardly had he tasted a morsel when the man with the wand
touched the plate with it, and they took it away from before him with the
utmost celerity. The carver, however, brought him another dish, and
Sancho proceeded to try it; but before he could get at it, not to say
taste it, already the wand had touched it and a page had carried it off
with the same promptitude as the fruit. Sancho seeing this was puzzled,
and looking from one to another asked if this dinner was to be eaten
after the fashion of a jugglery trick.

To this he with the wand replied, "It is not to be eaten, senor governor,
except as is usual and customary in other islands where there are
governors. I, senor, am a physician, and I am paid a salary in this
island to serve its governors as such, and I have a much greater regard
for their health than for my own, studying day and night and making
myself acquainted with the governor's constitution, in order to be able
to cure him when he falls sick. The chief thing I have to do is to attend
at his dinners and suppers and allow him to eat what appears to me to be
fit for him, and keep from him what I think will do him harm and be
injurious to his stomach; and therefore I ordered that plate of fruit to
be removed as being too moist, and that other dish I ordered to be
removed as being too hot and containing many spices that stimulate
thirst; for he who drinks much kills and consumes the radical moisture
wherein life consists."

"Well then," said Sancho, "that dish of roast partridges there that seems
so savoury will not do me any harm."

To this the physician replied, "Of those my lord the governor shall not
eat so long as I live."

"Why so?" said Sancho.

"Because," replied the doctor, "our master Hippocrates, the polestar and
beacon of medicine, says in one of his aphorisms omnis saturatio mala,
perdicis autem pessima, which means 'all repletion is bad, but that of
partridge is the worst of all."

"In that case," said Sancho, "let senor doctor see among the dishes that
are on the table what will do me most good and least harm, and let me eat
it, without tapping it with his stick; for by the life of the governor,
and so may God suffer me to enjoy it, but I'm dying of hunger; and in
spite of the doctor and all he may say, to deny me food is the way to
take my life instead of prolonging it."

"Your worship is right, senor governor," said the physician; "and
therefore your worship, I consider, should not eat of those stewed
rabbits there, because it is a furry kind of food; if that veal were not
roasted and served with pickles, you might try it; but it is out of the
question."

"That big dish that is smoking farther off," said Sancho, "seems to me to
be an olla podrida, and out of the diversity of things in such ollas, I
can't fail to light upon something tasty and good for me."

"Absit," said the doctor; "far from us be any such base thought! There is
nothing in the world less nourishing than an olla podrida; to canons, or
rectors of colleges, or peasants' weddings with your ollas podridas, but
let us have none of them on the tables of governors, where everything
that is present should be delicate and refined; and the reason is, that
always, everywhere and by everybody, simple medicines are more esteemed
than compound ones, for we cannot go wrong in those that are simple,
while in the compound we may, by merely altering the quantity of the
things composing them. But what I am of opinion the governor should cat
now in order to preserve and fortify his health is a hundred or so of
wafer cakes and a few thin slices of conserve of quinces, which will
settle his stomach and help his digestion."

Sancho on hearing this threw himself back in his chair and surveyed the
doctor steadily, and in a solemn tone asked him what his name was and
where he had studied.

He replied, "My name, senor governor, is Doctor Pedro Recio de Aguero I
am a native of a place called Tirteafuera which lies between Caracuel and
Almodovar del Campo, on the right-hand side, and I have the degree of
doctor from the university of Osuna."

To which Sancho, glowing all over with rage, returned, "Then let Doctor
Pedro Recio de Malaguero, native of Tirteafuera, a place that's on the
right-hand side as we go from Caracuel to Almodovar del Campo, graduate
of Osuna, get out of my presence at once; or I swear by the sun I'll take
a cudgel, and by dint of blows, beginning with him, I'll not leave a
doctor in the whole island; at least of those I know to be ignorant; for
as to learned, wise, sensible physicians, them I will reverence and
honour as divine persons. Once more I say let Pedro Recio get out of this
or I'll take this chair I am sitting on and break it over his head. And
if they call me to account for it, I'll clear myself by saying I served
God in killing a bad doctor--a general executioner. And now give me
something to eat, or else take your government; for a trade that does not
feed its master is not worth two beans."

The doctor was dismayed when he saw the governor in such a passion, and
he would have made a Tirteafuera out of the room but that the same
instant a post-horn sounded in the street; and the carver putting his
head out of the window turned round and said, "It's a courier from my
lord the duke, no doubt with some despatch of importance."

The courier came in all sweating and flurried, and taking a paper from
his bosom, placed it in the governor's hands. Sancho handed it to the
majordomo and bade him read the superscription, which ran thus: To Don
Sancho Panza, Governor of the Island of Barataria, into his own hands or
those of his secretary. Sancho when he heard this said, "Which of you is
my secretary?" "I am, senor," said one of those present, "for I can read
and write, and am a Biscayan." "With that addition," said Sancho, "you
might be secretary to the emperor himself; open this paper and see what
it says." The new-born secretary obeyed, and having read the contents
said the matter was one to be discussed in private. Sancho ordered the
chamber to be cleared, the majordomo and the carver only remaining; so
the doctor and the others withdrew, and then the secretary read the
letter, which was as follows:


It has come to my knowledge, Senor Don Sancho Panza, that certain enemies
of mine and of the island are about to make a furious attack upon it some
night, I know not when. It behoves you to be on the alert and keep watch,
that they surprise you not. I also know by trustworthy spies that four
persons have entered the town in disguise in order to take your life,
because they stand in dread of your great capacity; keep your eyes open
and take heed who approaches you to address you, and eat nothing that is
presented to you. I will take care to send you aid if you find yourself
in difficulty, but in all things you will act as may be expected of your
judgment. From this place, the Sixteenth of August, at four in the
morning.

Your friend,

THE DUKE


Sancho was astonished, and those who stood by made believe to be so too,
and turning to the majordomo he said to him, "What we have got to do
first, and it must be done at once, is to put Doctor Recio in the
lock-up; for if anyone wants to kill me it is he, and by a slow death and
the worst of all, which is hunger."

"Likewise," said the carver, "it is my opinion your worship should not
eat anything that is on this table, for the whole was a present from some
nuns; and as they say, 'behind the cross there's the devil.'"

"I don't deny it," said Sancho; "so for the present give me a piece of
bread and four pounds or so of grapes; no poison can come in them; for
the fact is I can't go on without eating; and if we are to be prepared
for these battles that are threatening us we must be well provisioned;
for it is the tripes that carry the heart and not the heart the tripes.
And you, secretary, answer my lord the duke and tell him that all his
commands shall be obeyed to the letter, as he directs; and say from me to
my lady the duchess that I kiss her hands, and that I beg of her not to
forget to send my letter and bundle to my wife Teresa Panza by a
messenger; and I will take it as a great favour and will not fail to
serve her in all that may lie within my power; and as you are about it
you may enclose a kiss of the hand to my master Don Quixote that he may
see I am grateful bread; and as a good secretary and a good Biscayan you
may add whatever you like and whatever will come in best; and now take
away this cloth and give me something to eat, and I'll be ready to meet
all the spies and assassins and enchanters that may come against me or my
island."

At this instant a page entered saying, "Here is a farmer on business, who
wants to speak to your lordship on a matter of great importance, he
says."

"It's very odd," said Sancho, "the ways of these men on business; is it
possible they can be such fools as not to see that an hour like this is
no hour for coming on business? We who govern and we who are judges--are
we not men of flesh and blood, and are we not to be allowed the time
required for taking rest, unless they'd have us made of marble? By God
and on my conscience, if the government remains in my hands (which I have
a notion it won't), I'll bring more than one man on business to order.
However, tell this good man to come in; but take care first of all that
he is not some spy or one of my assassins."

"No, my lord," said the page, "for he looks like a simple fellow, and
either I know very little or he is as good as good bread."

"There is nothing to be afraid of," said the majordomo, "for we are all
here."

"Would it be possible, carver," said Sancho, "now that Doctor Pedro Recio
is not here, to let me eat something solid and substantial, if it were
even a piece of bread and an onion?"

"To-night at supper," said the carver, "the shortcomings of the dinner
shall be made good, and your lordship shall be fully contented."

"God grant it," said Sancho.

The farmer now came in, a well-favoured man that one might see a thousand
leagues off was an honest fellow and a good soul. The first thing he said
was, "Which is the lord governor here?"

"Which should it be," said the secretary, "but he who is seated in the
chair?"

"Then I humble myself before him," said the farmer; and going on his
knees he asked for his hand, to kiss it. Sancho refused it, and bade him
stand up and say what he wanted. The farmer obeyed, and then said, "I am
a farmer, senor, a native of Miguelturra, a village two leagues from
Ciudad Real."

"Another Tirteafuera!" said Sancho; "say on, brother; I know Miguelturra
very well I can tell you, for it's not very far from my own town."

"The case is this, senor," continued the farmer, "that by God's mercy I
am married with the leave and licence of the holy Roman Catholic Church;
I have two sons, students, and the younger is studying to become
bachelor, and the elder to be licentiate; I am a widower, for my wife
died, or more properly speaking, a bad doctor killed her on my hands,
giving her a purge when she was with child; and if it had pleased God
that the child had been born, and was a boy, I would have put him to
study for doctor, that he might not envy his brothers the bachelor and
the licentiate."

"So that if your wife had not died, or had not been killed, you would not
now be a widower," said Sancho.

"No, senor, certainly not," said the farmer.

"We've got that much settled," said Sancho; "get on, brother, for it's
more bed-time than business-time."

"Well then," said the farmer, "this son of mine who is going to be a
bachelor, fell in love in the said town with a damsel called Clara
Perlerina, daughter of Andres Perlerino, a very rich farmer; and this
name of Perlerines does not come to them by ancestry or descent, but
because all the family are paralytics, and for a better name they call
them Perlerines; though to tell the truth the damsel is as fair as an
Oriental pearl, and like a flower of the field, if you look at her on the
right side; on the left not so much, for on that side she wants an eye
that she lost by small-pox; and though her face is thickly and deeply
pitted, those who love her say they are not pits that are there, but the
graves where the hearts of her lovers are buried. She is so cleanly that
not to soil her face she carries her nose turned up, as they say, so that
one would fancy it was running away from her mouth; and with all this she
looks extremely well, for she has a wide mouth; and but for wanting ten
or a dozen teeth and grinders she might compare and compete with the
comeliest. Of her lips I say nothing, for they are so fine and thin that,
if lips might be reeled, one might make a skein of them; but being of a
different colour from ordinary lips they are wonderful, for they are
mottled, blue, green, and purple--let my lord the governor pardon me for
painting so minutely the charms of her who some time or other will be my
daughter; for I love her, and I don't find her amiss."

"Paint what you will," said Sancho; "I enjoy your painting, and if I had
dined there could be no dessert more to my taste than your portrait."

"That I have still to furnish," said the farmer; "but a time will come
when we may be able if we are not now; and I can tell you, senor, if I
could paint her gracefulness and her tall figure, it would astonish you;
but that is impossible because she is bent double with her knees up to
her mouth; but for all that it is easy to see that if she could stand up
she'd knock her head against the ceiling; and she would have given her
hand to my bachelor ere this, only that she can't stretch it out, for
it's contracted; but still one can see its elegance and fine make by its
long furrowed nails."

"That will do, brother," said Sancho; "consider you have painted her from
head to foot; what is it you want now? Come to the point without all this
beating about the bush, and all these scraps and additions."

"I want your worship, senor," said the farmer, "to do me the favour of
giving me a letter of recommendation to the girl's father, begging him to
be so good as to let this marriage take place, as we are not ill-matched
either in the gifts of fortune or of nature; for to tell the truth, senor
governor, my son is possessed of a devil, and there is not a day but the
evil spirits torment him three or four times; and from having once fallen
into the fire, he has his face puckered up like a piece of parchment, and
his eyes watery and always running; but he has the disposition of an
angel, and if it was not for belabouring and pummelling himself he'd be a
saint."

"Is there anything else you want, good man?" said Sancho.

"There's another thing I'd like," said the farmer, "but I'm afraid to
mention it; however, out it must; for after all I can't let it be rotting
in my breast, come what may. I mean, senor, that I'd like your worship to
give me three hundred or six hundred ducats as a help to my bachelor's
portion, to help him in setting up house; for they must, in short, live
by themselves, without being subject to the interferences of their
fathers-in-law."

"Just see if there's anything else you'd like," said Sancho, "and don't
hold back from mentioning it out of bashfulness or modesty."

"No, indeed there is not," said the farmer.

The moment he said this the governor started to his feet, and seizing the
chair he had been sitting on exclaimed, "By all that's good, you
ill-bred, boorish Don Bumpkin, if you don't get out of this at once and
hide yourself from my sight, I'll lay your head open with this chair. You
whoreson rascal, you devil's own painter, and is it at this hour you come
to ask me for six hundred ducats! How should I have them, you stinking
brute? And why should I give them to you if I had them, you knave and
blockhead? What have I to do with Miguelturra or the whole family of the
Perlerines? Get out I say, or by the life of my lord the duke I'll do as
I said. You're not from Miguelturra, but some knave sent here from hell
to tempt me. Why, you villain, I have not yet had the government half a
day, and you want me to have six hundred ducats already!"

The carver made signs to the farmer to leave the room, which he did with
his head down, and to all appearance in terror lest the governor should
carry his threats into effect, for the rogue knew very well how to play
his part.

But let us leave Sancho in his wrath, and peace be with them all; and let
us return to Don Quixote, whom we left with his face bandaged and
doctored after the cat wounds, of which he was not cured for eight days;
and on one of these there befell him what Cide Hamete promises to relate
with that exactitude and truth with which he is wont to set forth
everything connected with this great history, however minute it may be.



CHAPTER XLVIII.

OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH DONA RODRIGUEZ, THE DUCHESS'S DUENNA,
TOGETHER WITH OTHER OCCURRENCES WORTHY OF RECORD AND ETERNAL REMEMBRANCE


Exceedingly moody and dejected was the sorely wounded Don Quixote, with
his face bandaged and marked, not by the hand of God, but by the claws of
a cat, mishaps incidental to knight-errantry.

Six days he remained without appearing in public, and one night as he lay
awake thinking of his misfortunes and of Altisidora's pursuit of him, he
perceived that some one was opening the door of his room with a key, and
he at once made up his mind that the enamoured damsel was coming to make
an assault upon his chastity and put him in danger of failing in the
fidelity he owed to his lady Dulcinea del Toboso. "No," said he, firmly
persuaded of the truth of his idea (and he said it loud enough to be
heard), "the greatest beauty upon earth shall not avail to make me
renounce my adoration of her whom I bear stamped and graved in the core
of my heart and the secret depths of my bowels; be thou, lady mine,
transformed into a clumsy country wench, or into a nymph of golden Tagus
weaving a web of silk and gold, let Merlin or Montesinos hold thee
captive where they will; whereer thou art, thou art mine, and where'er I
am, must be thine." The very instant he had uttered these words, the door
opened. He stood up on the bed wrapped from head to foot in a yellow
satin coverlet, with a cap on his head, and his face and his moustaches
tied up, his face because of the scratches, and his moustaches to keep
them from drooping and falling down, in which trim he looked the most
extraordinary scarecrow that could be conceived. He kept his eyes fixed
on the door, and just as he was expecting to see the love-smitten and
unhappy Altisidora make her appearance, he saw coming in a most venerable
duenna, in a long white-bordered veil that covered and enveloped her from
head to foot. Between the fingers of her left hand she held a short
lighted candle, while with her right she shaded it to keep the light from
her eyes, which were covered by spectacles of great size, and she
advanced with noiseless steps, treading very softly.

Don Quixote kept an eye upon her from his watchtower, and observing her
costume and noting her silence, he concluded that it must be some witch
or sorceress that was coming in such a guise to work him some mischief,
and he began crossing himself at a great rate. The spectre still
advanced, and on reaching the middle of the room, looked up and saw the
energy with which Don Quixote was crossing himself; and if he was scared
by seeing such a figure as hers, she was terrified at the sight of his;
for the moment she saw his tall yellow form with the coverlet and the
bandages that disfigured him, she gave a loud scream, and exclaiming,
"Jesus! what's this I see?" let fall the candle in her fright, and then
finding herself in the dark, turned about to make off, but stumbling on
her skirts in her consternation, she measured her length with a mighty
fall.

Don Quixote in his trepidation began saying, "I conjure thee, phantom, or
whatever thou art, tell me what thou art and what thou wouldst with me.
If thou art a soul in torment, say so, and all that my powers can do I
will do for thee; for I am a Catholic Christian and love to do good to
all the world, and to this end I have embraced the order of
knight-errantry to which I belong, the province of which extends to doing
good even to souls in purgatory."

The unfortunate duenna hearing herself thus conjured, by her own fear
guessed Don Quixote's and in a low plaintive voice answered, "Senor Don
Quixote--if so be you are indeed Don Quixote--I am no phantom or spectre
or soul in purgatory, as you seem to think, but Dona Rodriguez, duenna of
honour to my lady the duchess, and I come to you with one of those
grievances your worship is wont to redress."

"Tell me, Senora Dona Rodriguez," said Don Quixote, "do you perchance
come to transact any go-between business? Because I must tell you I am
not available for anybody's purpose, thanks to the peerless beauty of my
lady Dulcinea del Toboso. In short, Senora Dona Rodriguez, if you will
leave out and put aside all love messages, you may go and light your
candle and come back, and we will discuss all the commands you have for
me and whatever you wish, saving only, as I said, all seductive
communications."

"I carry nobody's messages, senor," said the duenna; "little you know me.
Nay, I'm not far enough advanced in years to take to any such childish
tricks. God be praised I have a soul in my body still, and all my teeth
and grinders in my mouth, except one or two that the colds, so common in
this Aragon country, have robbed me of. But wait a little, while I go and
light my candle, and I will return immediately and lay my sorrows before
you as before one who relieves those of all the world;" and without
staying for an answer she quitted the room and left Don Quixote
tranquilly meditating while he waited for her. A thousand thoughts at
once suggested themselves to him on the subject of this new adventure,
and it struck him as being ill done and worse advised in him to expose
himself to the danger of breaking his plighted faith to his lady; and
said he to himself, "Who knows but that the devil, being wily and
cunning, may be trying now to entrap me with a duenna, having failed with
empresses, queens, duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses? Many a time
have I heard it said by many a man of sense that he will sooner offer you
a flat-nosed wench than a roman-nosed one; and who knows but this
privacy, this opportunity, this silence, may awaken my sleeping desires,
and lead me in these my latter years to fall where I have never tripped?
In cases of this sort it is better to flee than to await the battle. But
I must be out of my senses to think and utter such nonsense; for it is
impossible that a long, white-hooded spectacled duenna could stir up or
excite a wanton thought in the most graceless bosom in the world. Is
there a duenna on earth that has fair flesh? Is there a duenna in the
world that escapes being ill-tempered, wrinkled, and prudish? Avaunt,
then, ye duenna crew, undelightful to all mankind. Oh, but that lady did
well who, they say, had at the end of her reception room a couple of
figures of duennas with spectacles and lace-cushions, as if at work, and
those statues served quite as well to give an air of propriety to the
room as if they had been real duennas."

So saying he leaped off the bed, intending to close the door and not
allow Senora Rodriguez to enter; but as he went to shut it Senora
Rodriguez returned with a wax candle lighted, and having a closer view of
Don Quixote, with the coverlet round him, and his bandages and night-cap,
she was alarmed afresh, and retreating a couple of paces, exclaimed, "Am
I safe, sir knight? for I don't look upon it as a sign of very great
virtue that your worship should have got up out of bed."

"I may well ask the same, senora," said Don Quixote; "and I do ask
whether I shall be safe from being assailed and forced?"

"Of whom and against whom do you demand that security, sir knight?" said
the duenna.

"Of you and against you I ask it," said Don Quixote; "for I am not
marble, nor are you brass, nor is it now ten o'clock in the morning, but
midnight, or a trifle past it I fancy, and we are in a room more secluded
and retired than the cave could have been where the treacherous and
daring AEneas enjoyed the fair soft-hearted Dido. But give me your hand,
senora; I require no better protection than my own continence, and my own
sense of propriety; as well as that which is inspired by that venerable
head-dress;" and so saying he kissed her right hand and took it in his
own, she yielding it to him with equal ceremoniousness. And here Cide
Hamete inserts a parenthesis in which he says that to have seen the pair
marching from the door to the bed, linked hand in hand in this way, he
would have given the best of the two tunics he had.

Don Quixote finally got into bed, and Dona Rodriguez took her seat on a
chair at some little distance from his couch, without taking off her
spectacles or putting aside the candle. Don Quixote wrapped the
bedclothes round him and covered himself up completely, leaving nothing
but his face visible, and as soon as they had both regained their
composure he broke silence, saying, "Now, Senora Dona Rodriguez, you may
unbosom yourself and out with everything you have in your sorrowful heart
and afflicted bowels; and by me you shall be listened to with chaste
ears, and aided by compassionate exertions."

"I believe it," replied the duenna; "from your worship's gentle and
winning presence only such a Christian answer could be expected. The fact
is, then, Senor Don Quixote, that though you see me seated in this chair,
here in the middle of the kingdom of Aragon, and in the attire of a
despised outcast duenna, I am from the Asturias of Oviedo, and of a
family with which many of the best of the province are connected by
blood; but my untoward fate and the improvidence of my parents, who, I
know not how, were unseasonably reduced to poverty, brought me to the
court of Madrid, where as a provision and to avoid greater misfortunes,
my parents placed me as seamstress in the service of a lady of quality,
and I would have you know that for hemming and sewing I have never been
surpassed by any all my life. My parents left me in service and returned
to their own country, and a few years later went, no doubt, to heaven,
for they were excellent good Catholic Christians. I was left an orphan
with nothing but the miserable wages and trifling presents that are given
to servants of my sort in palaces; but about this time, without any
encouragement on my part, one of the esquires of the household fell in
love with me, a man somewhat advanced in years, full-bearded and
personable, and above all as good a gentleman as the king himself, for he
came of a mountain stock. We did not carry on our loves with such secrecy
but that they came to the knowledge of my lady, and she, not to have any
fuss about it, had us married with the full sanction of the holy mother
Roman Catholic Church, of which marriage a daughter was born to put an
end to my good fortune, if I had any; not that I died in childbirth, for
I passed through it safely and in due season, but because shortly
afterwards my husband died of a certain shock he received, and had I time
to tell you of it I know your worship would be surprised;" and here she
began to weep bitterly and said, "Pardon me, Senor Don Quixote, if I am
unable to control myself, for every time I think of my unfortunate
husband my eyes fill up with tears. God bless me, with what an air of
dignity he used to carry my lady behind him on a stout mule as black as
jet! for in those days they did not use coaches or chairs, as they say
they do now, and ladies rode behind their squires. This much at least I
cannot help telling you, that you may observe the good breeding and
punctiliousness of my worthy husband. As he was turning into the Calle de
Santiago in Madrid, which is rather narrow, one of the alcaldes of the
Court, with two alguacils before him, was coming out of it, and as soon
as my good squire saw him he wheeled his mule about and made as if he
would turn and accompany him. My lady, who was riding behind him, said to
him in a low voice, 'What are you about, you sneak, don't you see that I
am here?' The alcalde like a polite man pulled up his horse and said to
him, 'Proceed, senor, for it is I, rather, who ought to accompany my lady
Dona Casilda'--for that was my mistress's name. Still my husband, cap in
hand, persisted in trying to accompany the alcalde, and seeing this my
lady, filled with rage and vexation, pulled out a big pin, or, I rather
think, a bodkin, out of her needle-case and drove it into his back with
such force that my husband gave a loud yell, and writhing fell to the
ground with his lady. Her two lacqueys ran to rise her up, and the
alcalde and the alguacils did the same; the Guadalajara gate was all in
commotion--I mean the idlers congregated there; my mistress came back on
foot, and my husband hurried away to a barber's shop protesting that he
was run right through the guts. The courtesy of my husband was noised
abroad to such an extent, that the boys gave him no peace in the street;
and on this account, and because he was somewhat shortsighted, my lady
dismissed him; and it was chagrin at this I am convinced beyond a doubt
that brought on his death. I was left a helpless widow, with a daughter
on my hands growing up in beauty like the sea-foam; at length, however,
as I had the character of being an excellent needlewoman, my lady the
duchess, then lately married to my lord the duke, offered to take me with
her to this kingdom of Aragon, and my daughter also, and here as time
went by my daughter grew up and with her all the graces in the world; she
sings like a lark, dances quick as thought, foots it like a gipsy, reads
and writes like a schoolmaster, and does sums like a miser; of her
neatness I say nothing, for the running water is not purer, and her age
is now, if my memory serves me, sixteen years five months and three days,
one more or less. To come to the point, the son of a very rich farmer,
living in a village of my lord the duke's not very far from here, fell in
love with this girl of mine; and in short, how I know not, they came
together, and under the promise of marrying her he made a fool of my
daughter, and will not keep his word. And though my lord the duke is
aware of it (for I have complained to him, not once but many and many a
time, and entreated him to order the farmer to marry my daughter), he
turns a deaf ear and will scarcely listen to me; the reason being that as
the deceiver's father is so rich, and lends him money, and is constantly
going security for his debts, he does not like to offend or annoy him in
any way. Now, senor, I want your worship to take it upon yourself to
redress this wrong either by entreaty or by arms; for by what all the
world says you came into it to redress grievances and right wrongs and
help the unfortunate. Let your worship put before you the unprotected
condition of my daughter, her youth, and all the perfections I have said
she possesses; and before God and on my conscience, out of all the
damsels my lady has, there is not one that comes up to the sole of her
shoe, and the one they call Altisidora, and look upon as the boldest and
gayest of them, put in comparison with my daughter, does not come within
two leagues of her. For I would have you know, senor, all is not gold
that glitters, and that same little Altisidora has more forwardness than
good looks, and more impudence than modesty; besides being not very
sound, for she has such a disagreeable breath that one cannot bear to be
near her for a moment; and even my lady the duchess--but I'll hold my
tongue, for they say that walls have ears."

"For heaven's sake, Dona Rodriguez, what ails my lady the duchess?" asked
Don Quixote.

"Adjured in that way," replied the duenna, "I cannot help answering the
question and telling the whole truth. Senor Don Quixote, have you
observed the comeliness of my lady the duchess, that smooth complexion of
hers like a burnished polished sword, those two cheeks of milk and
carmine, that gay lively step with which she treads or rather seems to
spurn the earth, so that one would fancy she went radiating health
wherever she passed? Well then, let me tell you she may thank, first of
all God, for this, and next, two issues that she has, one in each leg, by
which all the evil humours, of which the doctors say she is full, are
discharged."

"Blessed Virgin!" exclaimed Don Quixote; "and is it possible that my lady
the duchess has drains of that sort? I would not have believed it if the
barefoot friars had told it me; but as the lady Dona Rodriguez says so,
it must be so. But surely such issues, and in such places, do not
discharge humours, but liquid amber. Verily, I do believe now that this
practice of opening issues is a very important matter for the health."

Don Quixote had hardly said this, when the chamber door flew open with a
loud bang, and with the start the noise gave her Dona Rodriguez let the
candle fall from her hand, and the room was left as dark as a wolf's
mouth, as the saying is. Suddenly the poor duenna felt two hands seize
her by the throat, so tightly that she could not croak, while some one
else, without uttering a word, very briskly hoisted up her petticoats,
and with what seemed to be a slipper began to lay on so heartily that
anyone would have felt pity for her; but although Don Quixote felt it he
never stirred from his bed, but lay quiet and silent, nay apprehensive
that his turn for a drubbing might be coming. Nor was the apprehension an
idle one; one; for leaving the duenna (who did not dare to cry out) well
basted, the silent executioners fell upon Don Quixote, and stripping him
of the sheet and the coverlet, they pinched him so fast and so hard that
he was driven to defend himself with his fists, and all this in
marvellous silence. The battle lasted nearly half an hour, and then the
phantoms fled; Dona Rodriguez gathered up her skirts, and bemoaning her
fate went out without saying a word to Don Quixote, and he, sorely
pinched, puzzled, and dejected, remained alone, and there we will leave
him, wondering who could have been the perverse enchanter who had reduced
him to such a state; but that shall be told in due season, for Sancho
claims our attention, and the methodical arrangement of the story demands
it.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The History of Don Quixote, Volume 2, Part 32" ***

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