Volume II (1615)
Which recounts the adventure of the second Dolorous, or Anguished, Duenna, also called Doña Rodríguez
Cide Hamete recounts that when Don Quixote’s claw marks had healed, it seemed to him that the life he was leading in the castle contradicted the entire order of chivalry that he professed, and so he resolved to ask the permission of the duke and duchess to leave for Zaragoza, whose tourney was fast approaching; there he intended to win the armor that is awarded at the festival.
One day, when he was sitting at the table with the duke and duchess and beginning to put his intention into effect and to ask for their permission, suddenly there came through the door of the great room two women, as they subsequently proved to be, covered in mourning from head to toe, and one of them came up to Don Quixote and threw herself flat on the floor before him, her mouth pressed to his feet, and lamenting with such sad, deep, and dolorous moans that everyone who heard and saw her was thrown into confusion; although the duke and duchess thought it was probably a trick their servants wanted to play on Don Quixote, still, when they saw how earnestly the woman sighed, moaned, and wept, they were uncertain and in suspense, until Don Quixote, filled with compassion, lifted her from the floor and asked her to disclose her identity by removing the veil that hid her weeping face.
She did so, and showed herself to be the last person anyone expected, because she revealed the countenance of the duenna Doña Rodríguez, and the other woman in mourning was her daughter, who had been deceived by the rich farmer’s son. All those who knew the duenna were astounded, the duke and duchess more than anyone, for although they thought her a harmless fool, they did not think she would go so far as to commit acts of madness. Finally, Doña Rodríguez turned to her master and mistress and said:
“May it please Your Excellencies to give me permission to converse with this knight for a moment, that being necessary to the success of a matter in which I have become involved because of the audacity of an ill-intentioned villain.”
The duke said that he gave it, and that she might converse with Señor Don Quixote for as long as she wished. She, directing her voice and turning her face toward Don Quixote, said:
“Some days ago, O valiant knight, I recounted to you the injustice and treachery committed by a wicked farmer against my dearly loved daughter, this unfortunate woman here present, and you promised to defend her, righting the wrong that has been done to her, and now it has come to my attention that you wish to leave this castle to wander in search of good fortune, and may God grant that to you; but before you slip away down those roads I would like you to challenge this uncouth rustic and force him to marry my daughter and fulfill the promise he made to be her husband before and prior to his lying with her, because to think that my lord the duke will execute justice is to ask the elm tree for pears, for the reason I have already mentioned to your grace in private. And so, may Our Lord grant your grace very good health, and may He not forsake us.”
Don Quixote responded to these words with great solemnity and gravity, saying:
“Good duenna, moderate your tears, or, I should say, dry them, and hold back your sighs, for I take it as my responsibility to assist your daughter, who should not have been so ready to believe lovers’ promises, which are simple to make and very difficult to keep; and so, with the permission of my lord the duke, I shall leave immediately to look for this heartless young man, and I shall find him, and challenge him, and kill him if and when he refuses to keep the promise he made, for the principal intention of my profession is to forgive the humble and punish the proud, I mean to say, to assist the unfortunate and destroy the cruel.”
“There is no need,” responded the duke, “for your grace to take the trouble to look for the rustic about whom this good duenna is complaining, nor is there any need for your grace to ask my permission to challenge him, for I consider him already challenged, and take responsibility for informing him of this challenge, and telling him to accept it and come to my castle to answer it for himself, and I shall give both of you a reliable field, satisfying all the conditions that generally ought to be satisfied in such actions, and satisfying the demands of justice for each of you, which is the obligation of all princes who provide an unencumbered field to those who do battle within the borders of their domains.”
“Then with this assurance and the kind permission of your highness,” replied Don Quixote, “I say here that for this occasion I renounce my status as gentleman, and lower myself to the level of the miscreant’s base birth, and make myself his equal, thereby allowing him to do combat with me; and so, although he is absent, I challenge and defy him because of the wrong he committed in defrauding this poor woman who was a maiden, and no longer is, the fault being his; and he must fulfill the promise he made to her to be her legitimate husband, or die in the contest.”
And then, removing a glove, he threw it into the middle of the room, and the duke picked it up, saying, as he had said before, that he accepted the challenge in the name of his vassal and set the time for their encounter as six days hence, and the field, the courtyard of the castle, and the weapons, those customarily used by knights: lance and shield and articulated armor, and all the other accoutrements, without deceit, fraud, or trickery of any kind, for they would be seen and examined by the judges in the field.
“But before anything else, it is necessary for this excellent duenna and this imperfect maiden to put their right to justice in the hands of Señor Don Quixote, for otherwise nothing will be accomplished, and the challenge will not be carried out as it should.”
“I do,” responded the duenna.
“And so do I,” added her daughter, tearful, ashamed, and bad-tempered.
Then, having made this arrangement, and the duke having decided what needed to be done, the women in mourning left, and the duchess ordered that from then on they were to be treated not as her servants, but as enterprising ladies who had come to her house to ask for justice; and so they were given a private room and served as if they were strangers, not without consternation among the other serving women who did not know where the foolishness and audacity of Doña Rodríguez and her unfortunate daughter would end.
At this point, to give a final touch of joy to the festivities and bring the meal to a successful conclusion, into the room came the page who had carried the letters and presents to Teresa Panza, wife of the governor Sancho Panza, and his arrival made the duke and duchess very happy, for they were longing to know what had happened to him on his journey; when they asked him, the page responded that he could not tell them publicly, or in only a few words, and if it pleased Their Excellencies, that should wait until they were alone, and in the meantime they could enjoy the letters. And he took out two letters and placed them in the hands of the duchess. One of them said in the address: Letter for my lady the duchess so-and-so of I don’t know where, and the other said: To my husband, Sancho Panza, governor of the ínsula of Barataria. God keep him more years than me. The duchess could not wait for her bread to bake, as the saying goes, until she had read her letter, and she opened it and read it to herself, and seeing that she could read it aloud so that the duke and the others present could hear it, she read as follows:
LETTER FROM TERESA PANZA TO THE DUCHESS
Señora, the letter your highness wrote to me made me very happy, for the truth is it was something I had been wanting. The string of corals is very nice, and my husband’s hunting outfit is just as good. Your ladyship making my spouse, Sancho, a governor has given a lot of pleasure to the whole village, even if nobody believes it, especially the priest, and Master Nicolás the barber, and Sansón Carrasco the bachelor, but that doesn’t bother me; as long as it’s true, which it is, each person can say whatever he wants, though to tell you the truth, if the corals and the outfit hadn’t come I wouldn’t believe it either, because in this village everybody takes my husband for a fool, and except for governing a herd of goats, they can’t imagine what governorship he’d be good for. May God make him good and show him how to see what his children need.
Señora of my soul, I’ve decided, with your grace’s permission, to put this good day in my house 551 by going to court and leaning back in a carriage and making their eyes pop, for there are thousands who are already envious of me; and so I beg Your Excellency to tell my husband to send me some money, and to make it enough, because at court expenses are high: bread sells for a real, and a pound of meat costs thirty maravedís, which is a judgment, 552 and if he doesn’t want me to go, he should let me know soon, because my feet are itch-ing to get started; my friends and neighbors tell me that if my daughter and I look grand and important in court, my husband will be known through me and not me through him, because many people are bound to ask: ‘Who are those ladies in that carriage?’ And a servant of mine will respond: ‘The wife and daughter of Sancho Panza, governor of the ínsula of Barataria,’ and in this way Sancho will become known, and I’ll be admired, so let’s get to it, no matter what.
It makes me as sorry as I can be that this year they haven’t picked acorns in this village; even so, I’m sending your highness about half a celemín; I went to the woods myself to pick them and pick them over one by one, and I couldn’t find acorns any bigger; I wish they were like ostrich eggs.
Your magnificence mustn’t forget to write to me, and I’ll be sure to answer and tell you about my health and everything there is to tell about in this village, where I’m praying that Our Lord keeps your highness, and doesn’t forget about me. My daughter, Sancha, and my son, kiss the hands of your grace.
Wishing to see your ladyship more than to write to you,
I am your servant,
TERESA PANZA
Everyone derived great pleasure from hearing Teresa Panza’s letter, especially the duke and duchess, and the duchess asked Don Quixote if he thought it would be all right to open the letter that had come for the governor, for she imagined it to be very fine. Don Quixote said he would open it in order to give them pleasure, and he did so and saw that it said as follows:
LETTER FROM TERESA PANZA TO HER HUSBAND, SANCHO PANZA
I received your letter, Sancho of my soul, and I can tell you and swear to you as a Catholic Christian that I practically went crazy with happiness. Just think, my husband: when I heard that you were a governor, I thought I’d fall down dead from sheer joy, because you know, people say that sudden joy can kill just like great sorrow. Your daughter, Sanchica, wet herself without realizing it, she was so happy. I had the outfit you sent us in front of me, and the corals my lady the duchess sent around my neck, and both letters in my hands, and the man who brought them right there, and even so I believed and thought that what I saw and touched was all a dream, because who could ever imagine that a goatherd would become a governor of ínsulas? And you know, dear husband, my mother used to say you had to live a lot to see a lot: I say this because I plan to see more if I live more, because I don’t plan to stop until I see you as a landlord or a tax collector, for these are trades, after all, in which you always have and handle money, though the devil carries off anyone who misuses them. My lady the duchess will tell you how much I want to go to court; think about it, and let me know if you like the idea, and I’ll try to honor you there by riding in a carriage.
The priest, the barber, the bachelor, and even the sacristan can’t believe you’re a governor; they say it’s all a fraud, or a question of enchantment, like everything that has to do with your master Don Quixote; Sansón says he’ll go to look for you and get the governorship out of your head and Don Quixote’s craziness out of his skull; I don’t do anything but laugh, and look at my necklace, and plan the dress I’ll make for our daughter out of your outfit.
I sent some acorns to my lady the duchess; I wish they were made of gold. Send me some pearl necklaces, if they wear them on that ínsula.
The news from the village is that Berrueca married her daughter to a painter without any talent who came here to paint whatever it turned out to be; the Council told him to paint His Majesty’s coat of arms over the doors of the town hall, he asked for two ducados, they paid him in advance, he worked for a week, at the end of that time he hadn’t painted anything, and he said he couldn’t paint trifles; he gave back the money, and even so he got married claiming to be a skilled workman; the truth is he’s put down the brush and picked up a hoe and goes to the fields like a gentleman. Pedro de Lobo’s son has taken orders and has a tonsure and intends to become a priest; Minguilla, Mingo Silvato’s granddaughter, found out and has made a complaint against him, saying he promised to marry her; gossips are saying she’s pregnant by him, but he absolutely denies it.
There are no olives this year, and there’s not a drop of vinegar to be found anywhere in the village. A company of soldiers came through here and took three village girls away with them; I don’t want to tell you who they are: maybe they’ll come back, and there’s bound to be somebody who’ll marry them, with their good or bad qualities.
Sanchica is making lace trimming; she earns eight maravedís a day free and clear, and she’s putting them in a money box to help with her dowry, but now that she’s the daughter of a governor, you’ll give her a dowry and she won’t have to work for it. The fountain in the square dried up; lightning hit the pillory, which doesn’t bother me at all.
I’m waiting for your answer to this letter, and a decision about my going to court; and with this, may God grant you more years than He does me, or as many, because I wouldn’t want to leave you without me in this world.
Your wife,
TERESA PANZA
The letters were celebrated, laughed at, approved, and admired; as a final touch, the courier arrived with the letter Sancho had sent to Don Quixote, which was also read publicly, casting doubt on the foolishness of the governor.
The duchess withdrew in order to learn from the page what had occurred in Sancho’s village, which he recounted to her in great detail, not failing to relate every circumstance; he gave her the acorns, as well as a cheese that Teresa had given him because it was very good, even better than the ones from Tronchón.553 The duchess received it with the greatest pleasure, and with that we shall leave her in order to recount the end of the governorship of the great Sancho Panza, the flower and model of all insular governors.
