CHAPTER LVIII

When Don Quixote saw himself in the open countryside, free and clear of Altisidora’s wooing, it seemed to him that he had returned to his own element, that his spirits had revived and were ready to resume his chivalric pursuits, and turning to Sancho, he said:

“Freedom, Sancho, is one of the most precious gifts heaven gave to men; the treasures under the earth and beneath the sea cannot compare to it; for freedom, as well as for honor, one can and should risk one’s life, while captivity, on the other hand, is the greatest evil that can befall men. I say this, Sancho, because you have clearly seen the luxury and abundance we have enjoyed in this castle that we are leaving, but in the midst of those flavorful banquets and those drinks as cool as snow, it seemed as if I were suffering the pangs of hunger because I could not enjoy them with the freedom I would have had if they had been mine; the obligations to repay the benefits and kindnesses we have received are bonds that hobble a free spirit. Fortunate is the man to whom heaven has given a piece of bread with no obligation to thank anyone but heaven itself!”

“In spite of everything,” said Sancho, “that your grace has said, it’s not right for us to be ungrateful for the two hundred gold escudos in a purse that the duke’s steward gave to me and that I wear as a cure and a comfort over my heart, in case of emergencies, for we aren’t always going to find castles where they welcome us; we might come across some inns where they beat us instead.”

The two errants, knight and squire, were engaged in conversations like these when, having traveled a little more than a league, they saw a small green meadow where approximately a dozen men dressed as farmers were sitting and eating on their cloaks, which were spread on the grass. Next to them were what seemed like white sheets covering several objects that were placed at intervals, either standing up straight or lying flat. Don Quixote approached the men who were eating, and after first greeting them courteously, he asked what they had under those cloths. One of them responded:

“Señor, under these cloths are wooden images carved in relief for an altarpiece that we’re erecting in our village; we carry them covered so they won’t be damaged, and on our shoulders so they won’t break.”

“If you would be so kind,” responded Don Quixote, “I should like very much to see them, for images that are carried with so much care undoubtedly are good.”

“Well, of course they are!” said another. “They cost enough: the truth is that every one of them costs more than fifty ducados; so that your grace can see the truth of this, just wait, and your grace will see with your own eyes.”

And he stood up, stopped eating, and went to remove the covering of the first image, which turned out to be St. George mounted on a horse, a serpent lying coiled at his feet, its mouth run through by a lance, all of it depicted with the customary ferocity. The entire image seemed to glitter like gold, as they say. When he saw it, Don Quixote said:

“This was one of the best knights errant the divine militia ever had: his name was Don St. George,⁵⁷⁵and he was also a protector of damsels. Let us see this next one.”

The man uncovered it, and it seemed to be St. Martin astride a horse as he divided his cape with the poor man; and as soon as he saw it, Don Quixote said:

“This knight was another Christian seeker of adventures, and I believe he was more generous than brave, as you can see, Sancho, for he is dividing his cape with the poor man and giving him half, and no doubt it must have been winter then; otherwise, he was so charitable he would have given him the entire cape.”

“That couldn’t have been the reason,” said Sancho, “but he must have been paying attention to the proverb that says: ‘For giving and keeping you need some brains.’”

Don Quixote laughed and asked them to remove another cloth, and beneath it was revealed the image of the patron saint of Spain on horseback, his sword stained with blood, riding down Moors and trampling on their heads; and when he saw it, Don Quixote said:

“This one certainly is a knight, a member of the squadrons of Christ; his name is St. James the Moorkiller, one of the most valiant saints and knights the world has ever had, and that heaven has now.”

Then they removed another cloth, and it covered the fall of St. Paul from his horse, with all the details that are usually depicted in images of his conversion. It looked so lifelike that one would say that Christ was speaking and Paul responding.

“This,” said Don Quixote, “was the greatest enemy the Church of God Our Lord had at the time, and the greatest defender it will ever have; a knight errant in life, and a steadfast saint in death, a tireless worker in the vineyard of the Lord, a teacher of peoples whose school was heaven and whose professor and master was Jesus Christ Himself.”

There were no more images, and so Don Quixote said they should be covered again, and he told the men who were carrying them:

“Brothers, I take it as a good omen that I have seen what I have seen here, because these saints and knights professed what I profess, which is the practice of arms; the difference, however, between me and them is that they were saints and fought in the divine manner, and I am a sinner and fight in the human manner. They conquered heaven by force of arms, for ‘the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence,’⁵⁷⁶ and so far I do not know what I am conquering by the force of my labors, but if my Dulcinea of Toboso were to be free of the ills she is suffering, thereby improving my fortune and strengthening my judgment, it might be that my feet would travel a better road than the one I follow now.”

“May God hear and sin be deaf,” said Sancho.

The men were as baffled by Don Quixote’s appearance as they were by his words, for they did not understand half of what he said. They finished their meal, picked up their images, and, taking their leave of Don Quixote, continued on their way.

Sancho once again was so amazed at what his master knew, it was as if he had never known him, for it seemed there was no history or event in the world that Don Quixote did not have clearly in mind and fixed in his memory; and Sancho said:

“The truth is, Señor Master, that if what happened to us today can be called an adventure, it has been one of the gentlest and sweetest that has happened to us in the course of our wanderings: we’ve come out of it with no beatings and no fear, and we haven’t laid a hand on our swords, or battered the ground with our bodies, or been left hungry. God be praised for allowing me to see such a thing with my own eyes.”

“What you say is correct, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “but you must realize that not all times are the same, nor do they always follow the same course, and what common people generally call omens, which are not founded on any natural cause, the wise man must consider and judge to be happy events. One of these superstitious men gets up in the morning, leaves his house, happens to meet a friar of the Order of the Blessed St. Francis, and as if he had met a gryphon,⁵⁷⁷ he turns around and returns home. Another Mendoza⁵⁷⁸ spills salt on the table, and melancholy spills in his heart, as if nature were obliged to give signs of impending misfortunes with things as trivial as those we have mentioned. A wise Christian should not try to guess what heaven intends to do. When Scipio arrived in Africa, he stumbled as he leaped ashore, and his soldiers considered it an evil omen, but he embraced the ground and said: ‘You cannot escape me, Africa, because I am holding you tight in my arms.’ And so, Sancho, having come across these images has been a very happy event for me.”

“I believe that, too,” responded Sancho, “and I’d like your grace to tell me why it is that Spaniards, when they’re about to go into battle, invoke that St. James the Moorkiller and say: ‘St. James, and close Spain!’ By some chance is Spain open so that it’s necessary to close her, or what ceremony is that?”⁵⁷⁹

“You are very simple, Sancho,” responded Don Quixote. “Remember that God gave this great Knight of the Scarlet Cross to Spain to be her patron and protector, especially in the harsh conflicts that the Spaniards have had with the Moors, and so they invoke and call on him as their defender in every battle they fight, and they often have seen him throwing down, trampling, destroying, and killing the squadrons of Hagar,⁵⁸⁰ and I could give you many examples of this truth that are recounted in truthful Spanish histories.”

Sancho changed the subject and said to his master:

“I’m amazed, Señor, at the boldness of Altisidora, the duchess’s maiden: she must have been badly wounded and run through by the one they call Amor; they say he’s a little blind boy, and his vision is dim, or, I should say, he’s sightless, but if he takes aim at a heart, no matter how small, he hits it with his arrows and runs it through. I’ve also heard that a maiden’s modesty and reserve can make those amorous arrows blunt and dull, but in Altisidora they seem to grow sharper, not duller.”

“You should know, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “that love shows no restraint, and does not keep within the bounds of reason as it proceeds, and has the same character as death: it attacks the noble palaces of kings as well as the poor huts of shepherds, and when it takes full possession of a heart, the first thing it does is to take away fear and shame; lacking them, Altisidora declared her desires, which gave rise in my bosom to more confusion than compassion.”

“What notable cruelty!” said Sancho. “What glaring ingratitude! For me, I can say that at her smallest word of love I’d surrender and submit. Whoreson, what a heart of marble you have, and a will of bronze, and a soul of mortar! But I can’t think what this maiden saw in your grace that made her surrender and submit like that: what grace, what elegance, what charm, what face, each thing by itself or all of them together, made her fall in love? Because to tell you the truth, I often stop to look at your grace from the tips of your toes to the last hair on your head, and I see more things to drive her away than to make her fall in love; I’ve also heard that beauty is the first and principal quality that makes people love, and since your grace doesn’t have any, I don’t know what the poor maiden fell in love with.”

“You should know, Sancho,” responded Don Quixote, “that there are two kinds of beauty: one of the soul and the other of the body; that of the soul is found and seen in one’s understanding, chastity, virtuous behavior, liberality, and good breeding, and all of these qualities can exist and reside in an ugly man; and when a person looks at this beauty, and not at that of the body, an intense and advantageous love is engendered. I see very clearly, Sancho, that I am not handsome, but I also know that I am not deformed; it is enough for a virtuous man not to be a monster to be well-loved, if he has the endowments of the soul which I have mentioned to you.”

As they were having this conversation, they entered a forest that was to the side of the road, and suddenly, before he was aware of it, Don Quixote found himself caught in some nets of green string that were stretched from tree to tree; unable to imagine what this might be, he said to Sancho:

“It seems to me, Sancho, that the reason for these nets must be one of the strangest adventures anyone could imagine. By my soul, the enchanters who pursue me must want to entangle me in them and stop my journey in order to avenge the severity I showed Altisidora. Well, I can assure them that even if these nets were made not of green string but of the hardest diamonds, or were stronger than the net with which the jealous god of blacksmiths⁵⁸¹ trapped Venus and Mars, I would break them as if they were made of reeds or cotton threads.”

And when he attempted to step forward and break the nets, suddenly there appeared before him, coming out from among the trees, two extremely beautiful shepherdesses: at least, they were dressed as shepherdesses, except that their jackets and skirts were made of fine brocade, I mean, their skirts were made of rich moiré shot with gold. Their hair, so blond it rivaled the rays of the sun, hung loose down their backs and was crowned with garlands woven of green laurel and red amaranth. Their age, apparently, was no less than fifteen and no more than eighteen.

This was a sight that amazed Sancho, astounded Don Quixote, made the sun stop in its course to see them, and held all four of them in stunned silence. Finally, the person who spoke first was one of the two shepherdesses, who said to Don Quixote:

“Step back, Señor Knight, and do not break the nets that are stretched there not to harm you but for our entertainment; and because I know you will ask why they are hung there and who we are, I want to tell you briefly. In a village about two leagues from here, where there are many wellborn people, and many rich nobles, it was agreed among a good number of friends and relatives that their sons, wives, daughters, neighbors, friends, and relatives would come to enjoy this spot, which is one of the most pleasant in the entire region, and that all of us would create a second pastoral Arcadia,⁵⁸² the girls dressing as shepherdesses and the boys as shepherds. We’ve studied two eclogues, one by the famous poet Garcilaso and the other by the excellent Camoes,⁵⁸³ in his own Portuguese language, neither of which we have performed yet. Yesterday was the first day we spent here: we put up some tents, they say they’re called field tents, along the banks of a large stream that waters all these meadows; last night we stretched these nets between the trees to deceive the simple little birds that we frightened deliberately with our noise so they would fly into them. If, Señor, you would like to be our guest, you will be treated generously and courteously, for now no sorrow or melancholy must enter this place.”

She stopped speaking and said no more, and Don Quixote responded:

“Certainly, most beautiful lady, Actaeon⁵⁸⁴ could not have been more astonished or amazed when he suddenly saw Diana bathing in the waters than I am at the sight of your beauty. I praise the subject of your entertainments, and I am grateful for your offer; and if I can serve both of you, with the certainty that you will be obeyed you can command me, because my profession is none other than to show that I am grateful and a benefactor to all manner of people, especially the wellborn, which your persons represent; and if these nets, which occupy only a small space, were to occupy the entire globe, I would seek new worlds where I could pass through without breaking them; so that you will give some credence to my exaggeration, you should know that the promise, at least, is made by Don Quixote of La Mancha, in the event this name has reached your ears.”

“O, my dear friend!” the other shepherdess said then. “What good fortune for us! Do you see this gentleman in front of us? Well, let me tell you that he is the most valiant, and most enamored, and most courteous knight in the world, if a history of his deeds which is in print, and which I have read, does not lie to us and deceive us. I’ll wager that this man with him is a certain Sancho Panza, his squire, whose comical remarks no one can equal.”

“It’s true,” said Sancho, “I’m the comical fellow and the squire, just as your grace has said, and this gentleman is my master, the historied Don Quixote of La Mancha you’ve mentioned.”

“Oh!” said the other girl. “Dear friend, let’s ask him to stay, for our parents and brothers and sisters will enjoy that so much; I’ve heard about his courage and grace, too, just as you’ve described them, and they say especially that he’s the most steadfast and loyal lover who ever lived, and that his lady is a certain Dulcinea of Toboso, known to be the most beautiful woman in all of Spain.”

“And with reason,” said Don Quixote, “unless your peerless beauty calls that into question. Do not weary yourselves, Señoras, in trying to detain me, because the obligatory demands of my profession do not allow me to rest very long in one place.”

Just then a brother of one of the shepherdesses came to the spot where the four of them were, and he too was dressed as a shepherd, as richly and elegantly as the two girls, who told him that the man with them was the valiant Don Quixote of La Mancha and the other was his squire, Sancho, both of whom he already knew about because he had read their history. The charming shepherd paid his compliments and asked the knight to accompany him to his tents, and Don Quixote finally had to agree.

At this point the beaters arrived, and the nets were filled with a variety of small birds that were deceived by the color of the nets and fell into the very danger they were fleeing. More than thirty people gathered in that place, all of them splendidly dressed as shepherds and shepherdesses, and in a moment all of them knew who Don Quixote and his squire were, which pleased them a great deal because they already knew about the two of them from their history. They went to the tents and found the tables richly, abundantly, and immaculately laid; they honored Don Quixote by seating him at the head, and everyone looked at him and was amazed to see him.

Finally, when the tables had been cleared, Don Quixote very calmly raised his voice and said:

“Although some may say pride is the greatest sin men commit, I say it is ingratitude, for I am guided by the adage that says hell is filled with the ungrateful. This sin is one I have attempted to flee, as much as it was possible for me to do so, since I first reached the age of reason; if I cannot repay the good deeds done for me with other deeds, in their place I put the desire I have to perform them, and if that is not enough, I proclaim those good deeds far and wide, because the person who tells about and proclaims the good deeds that have been performed on his behalf would also recompense them with other deeds if he could, because most of the time those who receive are subordinate to those who give: therefore God is above us all, because He gives to us all, and the gifts of man cannot be compared to those of God, for they are separated by an infinite distance; this paucity and dearth, in a certain sense, can be made up for by gratitude. And I, grateful for the kindness shown to me here, and not being able to correspond in kind, for I am restrained by the narrow limitations of my means, offer what little I can and am able to do; and so I say that I shall maintain for two whole days, in the middle of the king’s highway to Zaragoza, that these damsels, the feigned shepherdesses here present, are the most beautiful and courteous maidens in the world, excepting only the peerless Dulcinea of Toboso, the sole lady of my thoughts, with no offense intended to all the gentlemen and ladies who hear me.”

Upon hearing this, Sancho, who had been listening very attentively, gave a great shout, saying:

“Is it possible that there are persons in the world who dare to say and swear that my master is crazy? Your graces, Señores Shepherds, tell me: is there a village priest, no matter how intelligent and educated, who can say what my master has said, or a knight errant, no matter how famous for courage, who can offer what my master has offered here?”

Don Quixote turned to Sancho, his face ablaze with anger, and said:

“Is it possible, O Sancho, that there is anyone in the whole wide world who can say you are not a dolt, lined with doltishness and trimmed with a certain wickedness and malice? Who has asked you to mind my business or determine if I am intelligent or a fool? Be quiet, and do not answer me, but saddle Rocinante if he is unsaddled, and let us go to put my offer into effect, for with the rightness of my cause, you can consider all who might wish to contradict it as already vanquished.”

And with great fury and signs of anger, he rose from his seat, leaving the onlookers perplexed, wondering if they should consider him as mad or sane. Finally, they attempted to persuade him not to issue the challenge, for they considered his gratitude well-known, and there was no need for further proofs of his valiant spirit since the ones alluded to in the history of his deeds were more than enough; yet despite all this, Don Quixote carried out his intention, and sitting on Rocinante, his shield on his arm and his lance in his hand, he placed himself in the middle of a king’s highway not far from the green meadow. Sancho followed him on his gray, along with all the people in the pastoral flock, for they wished to see how far his arrogant and unparalleled offer would go.

When Don Quixote was situated in the middle of the road—as I have already told you—he pierced the air with these words:

“O you travelers and wayfarers, knights and squires, those on foot and those on horseback who pass or will pass along this road during the next two days! Know that Don Quixote of La Mancha, knight errant, is here to maintain that of all the beauty and courtesy in the world, none is greater than that found in the nymphs who inhabit these meadows and forests, putting to one side the lady of my soul, Dulcinea of Toboso. Therefore whoever holds a contrary opinion, let him come forward: I wait for him here.”

Twice he repeated these same words, and twice they were not heard by any seeker of adventures; but Fortune, who was directing his affairs from one success to another, ordained that in a little while there would appear on the road a crowd of men on horseback, many of them with lances in their hands, riding very close together, in some confusion and in great haste. As soon as those who were with Don Quixote saw them, they turned and moved a good distance from the road, knowing that if they waited, they could be in danger; only Don Quixote, with an intrepid heart, stayed where he was, and Sancho Panza took cover behind Rocinante’s hindquarters.

The troop of lancers approached, and one of them, who was riding at their head, began to shout at Don Quixote, saying:

“Move aside, you devil, or these bulls will trample you to death!”

“Hah, you rabble!” responded Don Quixote. “What do I care for bulls, even if they are the fiercest bred on the banks of the Jarama! Confess, you villains, that what I have proclaimed here is true, without knowing what it is, and if you do not, you will have to contend with me.”

The herder had no time to respond, and Don Quixote had no time to move away, even if he had wanted to, and the crowd of fierce bulls and tame lead oxen, and the multitude of herders and other people who were taking them to a town where they would fight the next day, passed over Don Quixote, and over Sancho, Rocinante, and the gray, knocking them all down and sending them rolling along the ground. Sancho was left bruised, Don Quixote stunned, the donkey battered, and Rocinante none too sound; but, finally, they all got to their feet, and Don Quixote, stumbling here and falling there, began to run as fast as he could after the herd of bulls, shouting:

“Stop, wait, you villainous rabble! A single knight awaits you, one who does not concur or agree with those who say that one should build a silver bridge for the enemy who flees!”

But not even this could stop the speeding runners, and they paid no more attention to his threats than to the clouds of yesteryear. Exhaustion stopped Don Quixote, and more vexed than avenged, he sat down by the side of the road, waiting for Sancho, Rocinante, and the gray to reach him. They did, and master and servant remounted, and without returning to take their leave of the feigned or counterfeit Arcadia, and with more shame than pleasure, they continued on their way.