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堂吉诃德|Don Quixote

Part 1 第14章|Part 1 Chapter 14

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 塞万提斯] 阅读：[44481]
《堂吉诃德》是一部幽默诙谐、滑稽可笑、充满了奇思妙想的长篇文学巨著。此书主要描写了一个有趣、可敬、可悲、喜欢自欺欺人的没落贵族堂吉诃德，他痴狂地迷恋古代骑士小说，以至于放弃家业，用破甲驽马装扮成古代骑士的样子，再雇佣农民桑乔作侍从，三次出征周游全国，去创建所谓的扶弱锄强的骑士业绩。他们在征险的生涯中闹出了许多笑话，到处碰壁受辱，堂吉诃德多次被打成重伤，有一次还被当成疯子关在笼子里遣送回乡。最后，他因征战不利郁郁寡欢而与世长辞，临终前他那一番貌似悔悟的话语让人匪夷所思又哭笑不得。
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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克里索斯托莫之歌

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狠毒的你，既然愿意，

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把你的冷酷

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公诸于众，任人街谈巷议，

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我只好让这地狱

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传达我

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抑郁心胸的悲歌，

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它的声音已经扭曲。

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我要全力诉说

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我的苦痛和你的劣迹。

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那声调一定骇人，

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交织着

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我饱受折磨的辛酸凄厉。

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听吧，你仔细听，

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不是和谐的旋律，

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而是我

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苦闷肺腑的声音，

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是我的爱慕、你的负心

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带来的谵语。

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狮子咆哮豺狼嗥，

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让人心悸，

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披鳞毒蛇咝咝鸣，

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何处怪物悚人啼，

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乌鸦呱呱兆不吉，

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海狂风更急。

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斗败的公牛震天吼，

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失伴的斑鸠凄惨兮，

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遭妒的鸱鸮声声哀，

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黑暗的地狱尽哭泣，

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伴随痛苦之幽灵

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汇成新曲调，

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唱诉出

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我的极度的悲戚。

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塔霍之父竞技场，

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著名的贝蒂斯橄榄园，

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却听不到

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这哭泣的回声。

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我的极度悲伤

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以僵硬的语言，

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逼真的词句，

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传播在

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危岩深洞，

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暗无天日的僻野，

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渺无人烟的荒滩，

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阳光从不光顾的地域，

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或者那

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利比亚平原的野兽群里。

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我嘶哑的不幸声音

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与你的冷酷绝情，

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飘荡在

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偏僻的荒野，

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缅怀着我短促的生命，

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飞向无垠的寰宇。

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藐视荼毒生灵，

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猜忌攘除平静，

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欲火强烈害非浅，

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长久分离扰生息。

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恐惧被遗忘，

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却遏制了

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美好命运的希冀。

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四方皆死亡，

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而我，真是罕见的奇迹，

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猜忌欲置我于死地，

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我却依然活着，

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热情、孤单、遭嫌弃而诚心意。

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我的热情在忘恩负义中燃烧，

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在这煎熬里

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看不到希望的踪迹。

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我不再无谓地追求，

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宁愿极度沮丧，

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永无叹息。

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恐惧犹存希望？

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希望造成恐惧？

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纵使春情在前，

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却看到

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裸露的灵魂百孔千疮，

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我是否应该

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合上我的眼皮？

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当人们面对蔑视，

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猜疑痛苦变事实，

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纯洁真言化谎语，

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谁不开门迎狐疑？

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在可怕的爱情王国里，

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不可遏制的情欲呀，

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请为我套上手铐，

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让鄙夷给我套上

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不公的绳索吧，

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而你，

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虽然冷酷得胜利，

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却被我的痛苦

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抹去了

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对你的回忆。

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我终将逝去，

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无论生与死，我都

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执著地憧憬，

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从未企盼过运气。

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我再说，

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爱当真心爱，

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投入真情，

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灵魂才飘逸。

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我要说，我的冤家啊，

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你的灵魂一如形体美，

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你负我心，

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造成我不幸，

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是我咎由自取。

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你的桀骜

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要让爱安谧。

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你的鄙视导致我

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带着如此痴迷，如此桎梏，

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缩短我的生存期。

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我让身心随风去，

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安然遁迹悄无息。

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你对我的无礼

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使我厌弃生命。

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你清楚地看到，

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这颗倍受创伤的心灵，

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心甘情愿地

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忍受你的严厉。

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如果你认为，

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我为你而死引得

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你美丽的明眸黯然，

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我要说，

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完全不必。

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我把亡灵奉献给你，

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你无须负疚。

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你会在葬礼上

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愉快地看到，

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我的终结

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是你的喜庆大吉。

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你会得知，

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我生命仓促结束之日，

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正是你得意之期。

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来吧，此其时矣，

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焦渴难忍的坦塔洛斯①，

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身负重石的西叙福斯②，

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兀鹫在身的提梯俄斯③，

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旋转不停的艾西翁④，

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徒劳无息的同胞姐妹⑤，

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皆从地狱走来，

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向我致哀；

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向这未装裹的遗体

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低吟起伤感的挽歌。

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三脸狱吏和成千的魑魅魍魉

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参加了沉痛的殡殓。

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这是对已故情人

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最高的奠祭。

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当你离我而去时，

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绝望的歌啊，

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不必再叹息。

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既然

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我的不幸

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增加了你的欢娱，

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在这坟茔，

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你也不必凄迷。

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①坦塔洛斯是希腊神话中宙斯的儿子，被罚入冥界后，关在一个湖中央。他低头想喝水时，水便退去，抬头想吃树上的果子时，树枝便抬高。西方语言中常用“坦塔洛斯的痛苦”来形容可望不可及而引起的痛苦。坦塔洛斯被打入地狱的原因据说是他向人间泄露了宙斯的决定。

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②根据荷马的描写，西叙福斯是个自私、狡猾、罪恶多端的人，死后受到惩罚，要永不停息地向山上推石头。石头刚推上去便滚下来，他又得重新开始。

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③提梯俄斯是希腊神话中盖亚之子（又说是宙斯和尼拉拉之子）。因为欲对阿波罗之母勒托非礼，被宙斯打入地狱。在地狱中，有两只鹰不停地啄食他的肝脏。

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④艾西翁因亵渎宙斯之妻，被罚入地狱，缚在旋转不息的火轮上。

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⑤在希腊神话中，达那俄斯被迫将自己的五十个女儿嫁给埃古普托斯的五十个儿子。他秘嘱女儿们在新婚之夜把新郎全部杀死，结果有四十九个女儿照办。传说她们后来在冥界受罚，永不停息地向无底桶内倒水。

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大家听了克里索斯托莫之歌，都觉得不错，尽管念诗的人说，他觉得这与他听说的有关马塞拉的情况不符。他听说马塞拉正派善良，可克里索斯托莫却在诗里说什么情欲、猜疑、分离，这有损于马塞拉的良好声誉。安布罗西奥最了解朋友内心的思想，说：

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“大人，我一讲你就会明白，这位不幸的人写这首诗的时候已经与马塞拉分手了。他是故意离开马塞拉的，想看看自己能不能忘掉她。这位失恋的人对所有事情都烦躁，都恐惧，所以杜撰出那些情欲、猜疑等等，而且都当真了。马塞拉的善良名声依然如故。她冷酷，有点傲慢，看不起人，不过这些都不会对她造成什么不良影响。”

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“这倒是真的。”比瓦尔多说。

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比瓦尔多正要从那些准备烧掉的手稿里再抽出一份来朗读，他眼前忽然出现了一个令他眼花缭乱的仙女，原来是牧羊姑娘马塞拉出现在墓旁那块石头的上方。她真漂亮，比传说的还漂亮。原来没见过她的人看得张口结舌，原来经常见到她的人也目瞪口呆。可是安布罗西奥一看到她，就显得大为不快，说：

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“恶毒的山妖，你是来看被你凶残地害死的人伤口流血，还是来为你的罪恶行径洋洋自得？你是要像暴戾的尼禄①那样俯瞰你的罗马在焚烧，还是来高傲地践踏这位不幸者的尸体，就像塔奎尼乌斯②的忤逆女儿对他的父亲那样？你快说，你究竟想干什么？我最了解克里索斯托莫，他生前对你百依百顺。因此，即使他死了，我也要叫所有自称是他朋友的人都按照你的意志办。”

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①尼禄是古罗马暴君。公元64年罗马城遭大火，民间盛传是尼禄唆使纵火焚烧的。

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②塔奎尼乌斯是传说中罗马的第五代国王。他篡夺王位后，又被女儿杀死。

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“噢，安布罗西奥，我并不是为你说的那些事情而来。”马塞拉说，“我是来说明，大家把克里索斯托莫的痛苦及死亡归咎于我是多么不合理。我请所有在场的人都听我说。这不需要很多时间，也不用很多话，就可以说清楚。你们说，我天生很漂亮，你们都喜欢我，既然你们喜欢我，我就得喜欢你们。上帝给我的智慧告诉我，所有美丽的东西都可爱，可是没有告诉我，如果一个人因为漂亮而被别人喜欢，他也就得喜欢别人。常常是喜欢漂亮的人自己很丑，而丑是讨厌的。所以，说‘我爱你美丽，你也应爱我，即使我很丑’，就不对了。

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“而且，就算两个人都很漂亮，也不一定就两厢情愿。并不是所有漂亮的人都招人喜欢。有的美丽只悦目，却并不赏心。如果看见漂亮的人就喜欢，就动心，就会意乱情迷，无所适从。因为漂亮的人比比皆是，那么他的倾慕也就无止境了。我听说，真正的爱不是单方面的，而且应该是自觉自愿的。既然如此，我也这样认为，你们怎么能要求我，因为你们说爱我，我就得违心地爱你们呢？如果不是这样，你们说，假如我生来很丑，却抱怨你们不爱我，这合理吗？你们再想想，我的美貌并不是我挑选的，而是上帝赐予我的，我并没有要求或选择这种美貌。这就好比毒蛇有毒不能怪它一样，这是它的天性，因此能毒死人。我也不该因为漂亮就受到谴责。一个正派女人的美貌好比一束独立的火焰或者一把利剑，如果不靠近它，它既不会烧人，也不会伤人。名誉和品行是灵魂的装饰品，没有它们，再漂亮的身体也不算美。贞洁既然是美化人身体和灵魂的一种道德，那么，为什么因为漂亮而被爱的人就得迎合某些人去失掉贞洁呢？而那些人仅仅因为自己愿意就要千方百计地企图占有她？

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“我生来是自由人。为了生活得自在些，我选择了僻静的乡村。山上的大树是我的伙伴，清澈的泉水是我的镜子，我向大树倾诉我的思想，在泉水里观看我的美貌。我是孤火单剑。对于以貌取我的人，我直言相劝。至于说幻想造成了希望，无论是克里索斯托莫还是其他人，我都没有让他们存一点幻想。完全可以说，不是我的冷酷，而是他们的痴心害死了他们。如果有人说他们的要求是善良的，我就得答应，那么我告诉你们，当他在你们现在挖坟的这个地方向我表露他的善良愿望时，我就已经对他讲明了，我的愿望是一辈子单身，让大地享受我的美貌躯体。既然我讲得这样明白了，他还执迷不悟，逆风行舟，怎么能不迷途翻船呢？

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“我若是敷衍他，就算我虚伪；我若是迎合他，就违背了我的初衷。他明知不行却迷途不返；没人厌弃他，他却心灰意冷。你们说，现在把他的悲剧归罪于我，这像话吗？如果是我骗了他，他还有理由可怨；如果我答应了他又不履行诺言，他也有理由绝望；如果我勾引他，他信以为真，那还说得过去；如果我迎合了他，他也可以高兴；可是，我并没有欺骗他、答应他、勾引他、迎合他，这就不能说我冷酷，不能说我害死了他。直至现在，老天也没有让我爱上谁，要想让我任人挑选更是徒劳。

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“但愿我这番表白使每个向我求爱的人都有所鉴戒，知道从今天起如果有人为我而死，那他并不是殉情而死。因为我对谁也不爱，对任何人也不会给予热情。此外，回绝他也不应该算作蔑视。说我是妖魔鬼怪的人，就当我是妖魔鬼怪吧，别理我；说我无情义的人，不必向我献殷勤；说我翻脸不认人就别理我；说我冷酷就别追求我。我这个妖魔鬼怪，我这个负义、冷酷而翻脸不认人的女子，无论如何也不会去找你们，向你们献股勤，套近乎，追你们的。是克里索斯托莫的焦虑和奢望害死了他，为什么你们一定要把罪责推卸到我这个品行端庄的人身上呢？我洁身自好，与树为伍，可那些让我在男人们面前保持清白的人，为什么又一定要让我失节呢？你们都知道，我有自己的财产，不觊觎别人的东西；我生性开朗，不喜欢这个人，也不会去追求其他人；我不嘲弄这个人或拿那个人开心。同村里的牧羊姑娘们聊聊天，看护好羊群，已经使我心满意足了。我的愿望只限于这山上。如果超出了这些山，那就是为了欣赏美丽的天空，灵魂也随之走向冥府。”

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讲完这番话，她不想再听别人说什么，就转身走进附近山上的密林深处去了。所有在场的人都被她的机敏和美貌惊呆了。有的人仿佛被她秀丽的目光撩拨得还想去追她，丝毫没有领会马塞拉刚才那番表白的意思。唐吉诃德见此情景，觉得是他发扬骑士精神帮助弱女的时候了。他手握剑柄高声说道：

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“任何人，无论他是什么身份和等级，如果敢去追赶美丽的马塞拉，就别怪我发脾气了。她已经以明确充分的理由说明，她对克里索斯托莫之死只负很少责任或根本就没有责任。她没有理会任何人的请求。她应该受到的不是追求，而是世界上所有善良人的尊敬和爱戴，证明她是世界上唯一有高尚愿望的人。”

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也许是大家被唐吉诃德吓住了，也许是因为安布罗西奥要求大家把该对死者做的事情都做完，反正没有一个牧羊人去追赶马塞拉。坟坑挖好了，克里索斯托莫的手稿也烧完了，大家把他的遗体放进坑里，还流了不少眼泪。大家用一块大石头把坟封好。墓碑还没有刻好。安布罗西奥说，他打算刻上这样的墓志铭：

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这里躺着一位情人，

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他的身体已经僵硬。

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他本是一个牧羊人，

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因为失恋而殉情。

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他死于一位

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负心美人的冷酷之手，

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她的孤傲

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更加剧了他爱情的痛苦。

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然后，大家在坟上撒了些花束，向死者的朋友安布罗西奥表示了自己的哀痛，便纷纷告辞了。比瓦尔多和伙伴们告辞后，唐吉诃德也向牧羊人和旅客们道别。几位旅客邀请唐吉诃德随他们去塞维利亚，说那地方征险最合适，每条街、每个角落都会险象环生。唐吉诃德对他们的邀请和热情表示感谢，说他一时还不想去，也不应该去塞维利亚，他还要把山里的恶贼扫除干净，这山上恶贼遍野，臭名昭著。旅客们见唐吉诃德决心已定，便不再坚持。他们再次同唐吉诃德道别，继续赶路。路上不乏话题，有马塞拉和克里索斯托莫的故事，也有疯子唐吉诃德的故事。唐吉诃德想去寻找牧羊姑娘马塞拉，尽力为她效劳。可是按照信史的记载，以后的事出人意料。故事的第二部分到此结束。

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The Lay of Chrysostom Since thou dost in thy cruelty desire The ruthless rigour of thy tyranny From tongue to tongue, from land to land proclaimed, The very Hell will I constrain to lend This stricken breast of mine deep notes of woe To serve my need of fitting utterance.

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And as I strive to body forth the tale Of all I suffer, all that thou hast done, Forth shall the dread voice roll, and bear along Shreds from my vitals torn for greater pain.

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Then listen, not to dulcet harmony, But to a discord wrung by mad despair Out of this bosom’s depths of bitterness, To ease my heart and plant a sting in thine.

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The lion’s roar, the fierce wolf’s savage howl,

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The horrid hissing of the scaly snake,

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The awesome cries of monsters yet unnamed, The crow’s ill-boding croak, the hollow moan Of wild winds wrestling with the restless sea, The wrathful bellow of the vanquished bull, The plaintive sobbing of the widowed dove, The envied owl’s sad note, the wail of woe That rises from the dreary choir of Hell, Commingled in one sound, confusing sense, Let all these come to aid my soul’s complaint, For pain like mine demands new modes of song.

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No echoes of that discord shall be heard Where Father Tagus rolls, or on the banks Of olive-bordered Betis; to the rocks Or in deep caverns shall my plaint be told, And by a lifeless tongue in living words; Or in dark valleys or on lonely shores, Where neither foot of man nor sunbeam falls; Or in among the poison-breathing swarms Of monsters nourished by the sluggish Nile.

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For, though it be to solitudes remote The hoarse vague echoes of my sorrows sound Thy matchless cruelty, my dismal fate Shall carry them to all the spacious world.

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Disdain hath power to kill, and patience dies Slain by suspicion, be it false or true; And deadly is the force of jealousy; Long absence makes of life a dreary void; No hope of happiness can give repose To him that ever fears to be forgot; And death, inevitable, waits in hall.

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But I, by some strange miracle, live on A prey to absence, jealousy, disdain; Racked by suspicion as by certainty; Forgotten, left to feed my flame alone.

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And while I suffer thus, there comes no ray Of hope to gladden me athwart the gloom; Nor do I look for it in my despair; But rather clinging to a cureless woe, All hope do I abjure for evermore.

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Can there be hope where fear is? Were it well,

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When far more certain are the grounds of fear?

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Ought I to shut mine eyes to jealousy,

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If through a thousand heart-wounds it appears?

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Who would not give free access to distrust,

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Seeing disdain unveiled, and — bitter change! —

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All his suspicions turned to certainties,

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And the fair truth transformed into a lie?

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Oh, thou fierce tyrant of the realms of love,

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Oh, Jealousy! put chains upon these hands,

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And bind me with thy strongest cord, Disdain.

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But, woe is me! triumphant over all,

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My sufferings drown the memory of you.

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And now I die, and since there is no hope Of happiness for me in life or death, Still to my fantasy I’ll fondly cling.

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I’ll say that he is wise who loveth well, And that the soul most free is that most bound In thraldom to the ancient tyrant Love.

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I’ll say that she who is mine enemy In that fair body hath as fair a mind, And that her coldness is but my desert, And that by virtue of the pain be sends Love rules his kingdom with a gentle sway.

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Thus, self-deluding, and in bondage sore, And wearing out the wretched shred of life To which I am reduced by her disdain, I’ll give this soul and body to the winds, All hopeless of a crown of bliss in store.

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Thou whose injustice hath supplied the cause That makes me quit the weary life I loathe, As by this wounded bosom thou canst see How willingly thy victim I become, Let not my death, if haply worth a tear, Cloud the clear heaven that dwells in thy bright eyes; I would not have thee expiate in aught The crime of having made my heart thy prey; But rather let thy laughter gaily ring And prove my death to be thy festival.

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Fool that I am to bid thee! well I know Thy glory gains by my untimely end.

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And now it is the time; from Hell’s abyss Come thirsting Tantalus, come Sisyphus Heaving the cruel stone, come Tityus With vulture, and with wheel Ixion come, And come the sisters of the ceaseless toil; And all into this breast transfer their pains, And (if such tribute to despair be due) Chant in their deepest tones a doleful dirge Over a corse unworthy of a shroud.

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Let the three-headed guardian of the gate,

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And all the monstrous progeny of hell, The doleful concert join: a lover dead Methinks can have no fitter obsequies.

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Lay of despair, grieve not when thou art gone Forth from this sorrowing heart: my misery Brings fortune to the cause that gave thee birth; Then banish sadness even in the tomb.

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The “Lay of Chrysostom” met with the approbation of the listeners, though the reader said it did not seem to him to agree with what he had heard of Marcela’s reserve and propriety, for Chrysostom complained in it of jealousy, suspicion, and absence, all to the prejudice of the good name and fame of Marcela; to which Ambrosio replied as one who knew well his friend’s most secret thoughts, “Senor, to remove that doubt I should tell you that when the unhappy man wrote this lay he was away from Marcela, from whom be had voluntarily separated himself, to try if absence would act with him as it is wont; and as everything distresses and every fear haunts the banished lover, so imaginary jealousies and suspicions, dreaded as if they were true, tormented Chrysostom; and thus the truth of what report declares of the virtue of Marcela remains unshaken, and with her envy itself should not and cannot find any fault save that of being cruel, somewhat haughty, and very scornful.”

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“That is true,” said Vivaldo; and as he was about to read another paper of those he had preserved from the fire, he was stopped by a marvellous vision (for such it seemed) that unexpectedly presented itself to their eyes; for on the summit of the rock where they were digging the grave there appeared the shepherdess Marcela, so beautiful that her beauty exceeded its reputation. Those who had never till then beheld her gazed upon her in wonder and silence, and those who were accustomed to see her were not less amazed than those who had never seen her before. But the instant Ambrosio saw her he addressed her, with manifest indignation:

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“Art thou come, by chance, cruel basilisk of these mountains, to see if in thy presence blood will flow from the wounds of this wretched being thy cruelty has robbed of life; or is it to exult over the cruel work of thy humours that thou art come; or like another pitiless Nero to look down from that height upon the ruin of his Rome in embers; or in thy arrogance to trample on this ill-fated corpse, as the ungrateful daughter trampled on her father Tarquin’s ? Tell us quickly for what thou art come, or what it is thou wouldst have, for, as I know the thoughts of Chrysostom never failed to obey thee in life, I will make all these who call themselves his friends obey thee, though he be dead.”

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“I come not, Ambrosia for any of the purposes thou hast named,” replied Marcela, “but to defend myself and to prove how unreasonable are all those who blame me for their sorrow and for Chrysostom’s death; and therefore I ask all of you that are here to give me your attention, for will not take much time or many words to bring the truth home to persons of sense. Heaven has made me, so you say, beautiful, and so much so that in spite of yourselves my beauty leads you to love me; and for the love you show me you say, and even urge, that I am bound to love you. By that natural understanding which God has given me I know that everything beautiful attracts love, but I cannot see how, by reason of being loved, that which is loved for its beauty is bound to love that which loves it; besides, it may happen that the lover of that which is beautiful may be ugly, and ugliness being detestable, it is very absurd to say, “I love thee because thou art beautiful, thou must love me though I be ugly.” But supposing the beauty equal on both sides, it does not follow that the inclinations must be therefore alike, for it is not every beauty that excites love, some but pleasing the eye without winning the affection; and if every sort of beauty excited love and won the heart, the will would wander vaguely to and fro unable to make choice of any; for as there is an infinity of beautiful objects there must be an infinity of inclinations, and true love, I have heard it said, is indivisible, and must be voluntary and not compelled. If this be so, as I believe it to be, why do you desire me to bend my will by force, for no other reason but that you say you love me? Nay — tell me — had Heaven made me ugly, as it has made me beautiful, could I with justice complain of you for not loving me? Moreover, you must remember that the beauty I possess was no choice of mine, for, be it what it may, Heaven of its bounty gave it me without my asking or choosing it; and as the viper, though it kills with it, does not deserve to be blamed for the poison it carries, as it is a gift of nature, neither do I deserve reproach for being beautiful; for beauty in a modest woman is like fire at a distance or a sharp sword; the one does not burn, the other does not cut, those who do not come too near. Honour and virtue are the ornaments of the mind, without which the body, though it be so, has no right to pass for beautiful; but if modesty is one of the virtues that specially lend a grace and charm to mind and body, why should she who is loved for her beauty part with it to gratify one who for his pleasure alone strives with all his might and energy to rob her of it? I was born free, and that I might live in freedom I chose the solitude of the fields; in the trees of the mountains I find society, the clear waters of the brooks are my mirrors, and to the trees and waters I make known my thoughts and charms. I am a fire afar off, a sword laid aside. Those whom I have inspired with love by letting them see me, I have by words undeceived, and if their longings live on hope — and I have given none to Chrysostom or to any other — it cannot justly be said that the death of any is my doing, for it was rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty that killed him; and if it be made a charge against me that his wishes were honourable, and that therefore I was bound to yield to them, I answer that when on this very spot where now his grave is made he declared to me his purity of purpose, I told him that mine was to live in perpetual solitude, and that the earth alone should enjoy the fruits of my retirement and the spoils of my beauty; and if, after this open avowal, he chose to persist against hope and steer against the wind, what wonder is it that he should sink in the depths of his infatuation? If I had encouraged him, I should be false; if I had gratified him, I should have acted against my own better resolution and purpose. He was persistent in spite of warning, he despaired without being hated. Bethink you now if it be reasonable that his suffering should be laid to my charge. Let him who has been deceived complain, let him give way to despair whose encouraged hopes have proved vain, let him flatter himself whom I shall entice, let him boast whom I shall receive; but let not him call me cruel or homicide to whom I make no promise, upon whom I practise no deception, whom I neither entice nor receive. It has not been so far the will of Heaven that I should love by fate, and to expect me to love by choice is idle. Let this general declaration serve for each of my suitors on his own account, and let it be understood from this time forth that if anyone dies for me it is not of jealousy or misery he dies, for she who loves no one can give no cause for jealousy to any, and candour is not to be confounded with scorn. Let him who calls me wild beast and basilisk, leave me alone as something noxious and evil; let him who calls me ungrateful, withhold his service; who calls me wayward, seek not my acquaintance; who calls me cruel, pursue me not; for this wild beast, this basilisk, this ungrateful, cruel, wayward being has no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow them. If Chrysostom’s impatience and violent passion killed him, why should my modest behaviour and circumspection be blamed? If I preserve my purity in the society of the trees, why should he who would have me preserve it among men, seek to rob me of it? I have, as you know, wealth of my own, and I covet not that of others; my taste is for freedom, and I have no relish for constraint; I neither love nor hate anyone; I do not deceive this one or court that, or trifle with one or play with another. The modest converse of the shepherd girls of these hamlets and the care of my goats are my recreations; my desires are bounded by these mountains, and if they ever wander hence it is to contemplate the beauty of the heavens, steps by which the soul travels to its primeval abode.”

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With these words, and not waiting to hear a reply, she turned and passed into the thickest part of a wood that was hard by, leaving all who were there lost in admiration as much of her good sense as of her beauty. Some — those wounded by the irresistible shafts launched by her bright eyes — made as though they would follow her, heedless of the frank declaration they had heard; seeing which, and deeming this a fitting occasion for the exercise of his chivalry in aid of distressed damsels, Don Quixote, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword, exclaimed in a loud and distinct voice:

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“Let no one, whatever his rank or condition, dare to follow the beautiful Marcela, under pain of incurring my fierce indignation. She has shown by clear and satisfactory arguments that little or no fault is to be found with her for the death of Chrysostom, and also how far she is from yielding to the wishes of any of her lovers, for which reason, instead of being followed and persecuted, she should in justice be honoured and esteemed by all the good people of the world, for she shows that she is the only woman in it that holds to such a virtuous resolution.”

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Whether it was because of the threats of Don Quixote, or because Ambrosio told them to fulfil their duty to their good friend, none of the shepherds moved or stirred from the spot until, having finished the grave and burned Chrysostom’s papers, they laid his body in it, not without many tears from those who stood by. They closed the grave with a heavy stone until a slab was ready which Ambrosio said he meant to have prepared, with an epitaph which was to be to this effect: Beneath the stone before your eyes The body of a lover lies; In life he was a shepherd swain, In death a victim to disdain.

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Ungrateful, cruel, coy, and fair,

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Was she that drove him to despair, And Love hath made her his ally For spreading wide his tyranny.

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They then strewed upon the grave a profusion of flowers and branches, and all expressing their condolence with his friend ambrosio, took their Vivaldo and his companion did the same; and Don Quixote bade farewell to his hosts and to the travellers, who pressed him to come with them to Seville, as being such a convenient place for finding adventures, for they presented themselves in every street and round every corner oftener than anywhere else. Don Quixote thanked them for their advice and for the disposition they showed to do him a favour, and said that for the present he would not, and must not go to Seville until he had cleared all these mountains of highwaymen and robbers, of whom report said they were full. Seeing his good intention, the travellers were unwilling to press him further, and once more bidding him farewell, they left him and pursued their journey, in the course of which they did not fail to discuss the story of Marcela and Chrysostom as well as the madness of Don Quixote. He, on his part, resolved to go in quest of the shepherdess Marcela, and make offer to her of all the service he could render her; but things did not fall out with him as he expected, according to what is related in the course of this veracious history, of which the Second Part ends here.

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