He was going along entirely absorbed in these fancies, when Sanchosaid to him, "Isn't it odd, senor, that I have still before my eyesthat monstrous enormous nose of my gossip, Tom Cecial?"
"And dost thou, then, believe, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "thatthe Knight of the Mirrors was the bachelor Carrasco, and his squireTom Cecial thy gossip?"
"I don't know what to say to that," replied Sancho; "all I know isthat the tokens he gave me about my own house, wife and children,nobody else but himself could have given me; and the face, once thenose was off, was the very face of Tom Cecial, as I have seen itmany a time in my town and next door to my own house; and the sound ofthe voice was just the same."
"Let us reason the matter, Sancho," said Don Quixote. "Come now,by what process of thinking can it be supposed that the bachelorSamson Carrasco would come as a knight-errant, in arms offensive anddefensive, to fight with me? Have I ever been by any chance his enemy?Have I ever given him any occasion to owe me a grudge? Am I his rival,or does he profess arms, that he should envy the fame I haveacquired in them?"
"Well, but what are we to say, senor," returned Sancho, "aboutthat knight, whoever he is, being so like the bachelor Carrasco, andhis squire so like my gossip, Tom Cecial? And if that beenchantment, as your worship says, was there no other pair in theworld for them to take the likeness of?"
"It is all," said Don Quixote, "a scheme and plot of the malignantmagicians that persecute me, who, foreseeing that I was to bevictorious in the conflict, arranged that the vanquished knight shoulddisplay the countenance of my friend the bachelor, in order that thefriendship I bear him should interpose to stay the edge of my swordand might of my arm, and temper the just wrath of my heart; so that hewho sought to take my life by fraud and falsehood should save his own.And to prove it, thou knowest already, Sancho, by experience whichcannot lie or deceive, how easy it is for enchanters to change onecountenance into another, turning fair into foul, and foul intofair; for it is not two days since thou sawest with thine own eyes thebeauty and elegance of the peerless Dulcinea in all its perfection andnatural harmony, while I saw her in the repulsive and mean form of acoarse country wench, with cataracts in her eyes and a foul smell inher mouth; and when the perverse enchanter ventured to effect sowicked a transformation, it is no wonder if he effected that of SamsonCarrasco and thy gossip in order to snatch the glory of victory out ofmy grasp. For all that, however, I console myself, because, after all,in whatever shape he may have been, I have victorious over my enemy."
"God knows what's the truth of it all," said Sancho; and knowingas he did that the transformation of Dulcinea had been a device andimposition of his own, his master's illusions were not satisfactory tohim; but he did not like to reply lest he should say something thatmight disclose his trickery.
As they were engaged in this conversation they were overtaken by aman who was following the same road behind them, mounted on a veryhandsome flea-bitten mare, and dressed in a gaban of fine green cloth,with tawny velvet facings, and a montera of the same velvet. Thetrappings of the mare were of the field and jineta fashion, and ofmulberry colour and green. He carried a Moorish cutlass hanging from abroad green and gold baldric; the buskins were of the same make as thebaldric; the spurs were not gilt, but lacquered green, and so brightlypolished that, matching as they did the rest of his apparel, theylooked better than if they had been of pure gold.
When the traveller came up with them he saluted them courteously,and spurring his mare was passing them without stopping, but DonQuixote called out to him, "Gallant sir, if so be your worship isgoing our road, and has no occasion for speed, it would be apleasure to me if we were to join company."
"In truth," replied he on the mare, "I would not pass you so hastilybut for fear that horse might turn restive in the company of my mare."
"You may safely hold in your mare, senor," said Sancho in reply tothis, "for our horse is the most virtuous and well-behaved horse inthe world; he never does anything wrong on such occasions, and theonly time he misbehaved, my master and I suffered for it sevenfold;I say again your worship may pull up if you like; for if she wasoffered to him between two plates the horse would not hanker afterher."
The traveller drew rein, amazed at the trim and features of DonQuixote, who rode without his helmet, which Sancho carried like avalise in front of Dapple's pack-saddle; and if the man in greenexamined Don Quixote closely, still more closely did Don Quixoteexamine the man in green, who struck him as being a man ofintelligence. In appearance he was about fifty years of age, withbut few grey hairs, an aquiline cast of features, and an expressionbetween grave and gay; and his dress and accoutrements showed him tobe a man of good condition. What he in green thought of Don Quixote ofLa Mancha was that a man of that sort and shape he had never yet seen;he marvelled at the length of his hair, his lofty stature, thelankness and sallowness of his countenance, his armour, his bearingand his gravity- a figure and picture such as had not been seen inthose regions for many a long day.
Don Quixote saw very plainly the attention with which thetraveller was regarding him, and read his curiosity in hisastonishment; and courteous as he was and ready to please everybody,before the other could ask him any question he anticipated him bysaying, "The appearance I present to your worship being so strange andso out of the common, I should not be surprised if it filled youwith wonder; but you will cease to wonder when I tell you, as I do,that I am one of those knights who, as people say, go seekingadventures. I have left my home, I have mortgaged my estate, I havegiven up my comforts, and committed myself to the arms of Fortune,to bear me whithersoever she may please. My desire was to bring tolife again knight-errantry, now dead, and for some time past,stumbling here, falling there, now coming down headlong, now raisingmyself up again, I have carried out a great portion of my design,succouring widows, protecting maidens, and giving aid to wives,orphans, and minors, the proper and natural duty of knights-errant;and, therefore, because of my many valiant and Christian achievements,I have been already found worthy to make my way in print towell-nigh all, or most, of the nations of the earth. Thirty thousandvolumes of my history have been printed, and it is on the high-road tobe printed thirty thousand thousands of times, if heaven does notput a stop to it. In short, to sum up all in a few words, or in asingle one, I may tell you I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, otherwisecalled 'The Knight of the Rueful Countenance;' for thoughself-praise is degrading, I must perforce sound my own sometimes, thatis to say, when there is no one at hand to do it for me. So that,gentle sir, neither this horse, nor this lance, nor this shield, northis squire, nor all these arms put together, nor the sallowness of mycountenance, nor my gaunt leanness, will henceforth astonish you,now that you know who I am and what profession I follow."
With these words Don Quixote held his peace, and, from the time hetook to answer, the man in green seemed to be at a loss for a reply;after a long pause, however, he said to him, "You were right whenyou saw curiosity in my amazement, sir knight; but you have notsucceeded in removing the astonishment I feel at seeing you; foralthough you say, senor, that knowing who you are ought to removeit, it has not done so; on the contrary, now that I know, I am leftmore amazed and astonished than before. What! is it possible thatthere are knights-errant in the world in these days, and historiesof real chivalry printed? I cannot realise the fact that there canbe anyone on earth now-a-days who aids widows, or protects maidens, ordefends wives, or succours orphans; nor should I believe it had Inot seen it in your worship with my own eyes. Blessed be heaven! forby means of this history of your noble and genuine chivalrous deeds,which you say has been printed, the countless stories of fictitiousknights-errant with which the world is filled, so much to the injuryof morality and the prejudice and discredit of good histories, willhave been driven into oblivion."
"There is a good deal to be said on that point," said Don Quixote,"as to whether the histories of the knights-errant are fiction ornot."
"Why, is there anyone who doubts that those histories are false?"said the man in green.
"I doubt it," said Don Quixote, "but never mind that just now; ifour journey lasts long enough, I trust in God I shall show yourworship that you do wrong in going with the stream of those who regardit as a matter of certainty that they are not true."
From this last observation of Don Quixote's, the traveller beganto have a suspicion that he was some crazy being, and was waitinghim to confirm it by something further; but before they could turnto any new subject Don Quixote begged him to tell him who he was,since he himself had rendered account of his station and life. Tothis, he in the green gaban replied "I, Sir Knight of the RuefulCountenance, am a gentleman by birth, native of the village where,please God, we are going to dine today; I am more than fairly welloff, and my name is Don Diego de Miranda. I pass my life with my wife,children, and friends; my pursuits are hunting and fishing, but I keepneither hawks nor greyhounds, nothing but a tame partridge or a boldferret or two; I have six dozen or so of books, some in our mothertongue, some Latin, some of them history, others devotional; thoseof chivalry have not as yet crossed the threshold of my door; I ammore given to turning over the profane than the devotional, so long asthey are books of honest entertainment that charm by their style andattract and interest by the invention they display, though of thesethere are very few in Spain. Sometimes I dine with my neighbours andfriends, and often invite them; my entertainments are neat and wellserved without stint of anything. I have no taste for tattle, nor do Iallow tattling in my presence; I pry not into my neighbours' lives,nor have I lynx-eyes for what others do. I hear mass every day; Ishare my substance with the poor, making no display of good works,lest I let hypocrisy and vainglory, those enemies that subtly takepossession of the most watchful heart, find an entrance into mine. Istrive to make peace between those whom I know to be at variance; I amthe devoted servant of Our Lady, and my trust is ever in theinfinite mercy of God our Lord."
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