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堂吉诃德|Don Quixote

Part 1 第20章|Part 1 Chapter 20

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 塞万提斯] 阅读：[44366]
《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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次前所未闻却又毫无危险的冒险

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“我的大人，这些草足以证明附近有清泉或小溪滋润着它们。所以，咱们最好往前再走一点儿，看看是否能找个解渴的地方。咱们渴得这么厉害，比饿还难受。”

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唐吉诃德觉得桑乔说得对，便拿起了罗西南多的缰绳。桑乔把吃剩下的东西放到驴背上，拉着驴，开始在平原上摸索着往前走。漆黑的夜，什么都看不见。走了不到两百步，就听到一股巨大的声音，仿佛是激流从高山上汹涌而下。两人为之振奋，停住脚步想听听水声的方向。可是，他们骤然又听到另一声巨响，把水声带来的喜悦一扫而光，特别是桑乔，本来就胆小。他们听到的是一种铁锁链有节奏的撞击声，还伴随着水的咆哮声，除了唐吉诃德，任何人听到这种声音都会毛骨悚然。刚才说过，这是个漆黑的夜晚。他们恰巧又走进一片高高的树林，微风吹动着树叶，产生出一种可怕的响声。这种孤独、荒僻、黑夜和水声，再加上树叶的窸窣声，令人产生一种恐惧。尤其是他们发现撞击声不止，风吹不停，长夜漫漫。更有甚者，他们不知道自己到底是在什么地方，因而惊恐万状。可是，唐吉诃德勇敢无畏。他跳上罗西南多，手持盾牌，举起长矛说：

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“桑乔朋友，你该知道，承蒙老天厚爱，我出生在这个铁器时代，就是为了重新恢复黄金时代，或者如人们常说的那个金黄时代。各种危险、奇遇和丰功伟绩都是专为我预备的。我再说一遍，我是来恢复圆桌骑士、法兰西十二廷臣和九大俊杰的。我将使人们忘却普拉蒂尔、塔布兰特、奥利万特和蒂兰特、费博和贝利亚尼斯，以及过去所有的著名游侠骑士，用我当今的伟迹、奇迹和战迹使他们最辉煌的时期都黯然失色。

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“你记住，忠实的合法侍从，今晚的黑暗、奇怪的寂静，这些树难以分辨的沙沙声，咱们正寻找的可怕水声，那水似乎是从月亮的高山上倾泻下来的，以及那些刺激着我们耳朵的无休止的撞击声，无论合在一起或者单独发出，都足以让玛斯①胆寒，更别提那些还不习惯于这类事情的人了。所以，你把罗西南多的肚带紧一紧，咱们就分手吧。你在这儿等我三天。如果三天后我还不回来，你就回到咱们村去，求求你，做件好事，到托博索去告诉我美丽无双的夫人杜尔西内亚，就说忠实于她的骑士为了做一些自认为是事业的事情阵亡了。”

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桑乔闻言伤心极了，对唐吉诃德说：

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①玛斯是希腊神话中的战神。

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“大人，我不明白您为什么要从事这件可怕的事情。现在是夜晚，谁也看不见咱们。咱们完全可以绕道，避开危险，哪怕再有三天没水喝也行。谁也没有看见咱们，更不会有人说咱们是胆小鬼。还有一层，咱们那儿的神甫您是很熟悉的，我听他多次说过，‘寻险者死于险’。所以，您别去招惹上帝，做这种太过分的事情。否则，除非产生奇迹，您是逃不掉的。老天保佑您，没让您像我那样被人扔，而且安然无恙地战胜了那么多护送尸体的人，这就足够了。如果这些还不能打动您的铁石心肠，请您想想吧，您一离开这里，要是有人来要我的命，我就会吓得魂归西天！

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“我远离故土，撇下老婆孩子，跟着您，原以为能够得到好处，可是偷鸡不成反蚀米，我也不抱什么希望了。本来只要您活着，我还可以指望得到您多次许诺的某个倒霉的破岛，可是现在换来的却是您要把我撇在这么一个远离人烟的地方。只求您看在上帝的份上，我的大人，别做这种缺德事吧。假如您非要这么做不可，至少也要等到天亮。根据我当牧羊人时学到的知识，从现在起到天亮最多不过三小时，因为小熊星座的嘴正在头上方，如果嘴对着左臂线就是午夜。”

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“桑乔，”唐吉诃德问，“天这么黑，一颗星星都不见，你怎么能看清你说的那条线、那个嘴和后脑勺在哪儿呢？”

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“是这样，”桑乔说，“恐惧拥有很多眼睛，能够看到地下的东西，天上的就更不用说了。所以，仔细推论一下，完全可以肯定从现在到天亮没多少时间了。”

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“不管差多少时间，”唐吉诃德说，“反正不能由于别人哭了、哀求了，无论是现在还是任何时候，我就该放弃骑士应该做的事情。桑乔，我求求你，别再说了，既然上帝要我去征服这一罕见的可怕险恶，你只需照顾好我的身体就行了，自己也要注意节哀。你现在要做的就是勒紧罗西南多的肚带，留在这里。我马上就会回来，不管是死还是活。”

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桑乔看到主人决心已下，而自己的眼泪、劝告和哀求都不起作用，就想略施小计，如果可能的话，争取拖到天明。于是他在给罗西南多紧肚带时，不动声色地用缰绳把罗西南多的两只蹄子利索地拴在了一起。因此，唐吉诃德想走却走不了，那马不能走，只能跳。桑乔见他的小计谋得逞了，就说：

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“哎，大人，老天被我的眼泪和乞求感动了，命令罗西南多不要动。如果您还这么踢它，就会惹怒老天，就像人们说的，物极必反。”

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唐吉诃德无可奈何。他越是夹马肚子，马越不走。他没想到马蹄会被拴着，只好安静下来，等待天亮，或者等罗西南多能够走动。他没想到这是桑乔在捣鬼，而以为另有原因，就对桑乔说：

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“既然罗西南多不能走动，桑乔，我愿意等到天明。我就是哭，也得等到天亮啊。”

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“不用哭，”桑乔说，“如果您不愿意下马，按照游侠骑士的习惯，在这绿草地上睡一会儿，养精蓄锐，待天亮后再去从事正期待着您的非凡事业，那么我可以讲故事，从现在讲到天明，给您解闷。”

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“你为什么叫我下马睡觉呢？”唐吉诃德说，“我难道是那种在危险时刻睡觉的骑士吗？你去睡吧，你生来就是睡觉的，或者你愿意干什么就干什么吧。我反正要我行我素。”

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“您别生气，我的大人，”桑乔说，我可不是那个意思。”

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桑乔走近唐吉诃德，一手扶着马鞍前，另一只手放在马鞍后，拥着主人的左腿，不敢离开一点儿。他是被那不断发生的撞击声吓的。

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唐吉诃德让桑乔照刚才说的，讲个故事解闷。桑乔说，要不是听到那声音害怕，他就讲了。

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“尽管如此，我还是凑合一个吧。只要我认真讲，不打断我，那肯定是个最好的故事。您注意听，我开始讲了。以前那个时候，好处均摊，倒霉自找……您注意，我的大人，以前故事的开头并不是随便讲的，而是要用罗马人·卡顿·松索里诺的一个警句，也就是‘倒霉自找’。这句话对您最合适，您应该待在这儿，别到任何地方去找麻烦，或者最好再去找一条别的路。反正也没人强迫咱们非走这条路。这条路上吓人的事太多。”

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“你接着讲吧，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“该走哪条路还是让我考虑吧。”

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“好吧，我讲，”桑乔说，“在埃斯特雷马杜拉的一个地方有个牧羊人，也就是说，是放羊的。我的故事里的这个牧人或牧羊人叫洛佩·鲁伊斯。这个洛佩·鲁伊斯爱上了一个叫托拉尔瓦的牧羊姑娘。那个叫托拉尔瓦的牧羊姑娘是一位富裕牧主的女儿。而这个富裕牧主……”

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“你要是这么讲下去，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“每句话都讲两遍，两天也讲不完。你接着说吧，讲话时别犯傻，否则，就什么也别说。”

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“我们那儿的人都像我这么讲，”桑乔说，“我也不会用别的方式讲，而且，您也不应该要求我编出什么新花样。”

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“随你的便吧，”唐吉诃德说，“我命里注定该听你讲。你就接着说吧。”

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“于是，我亲爱的大人，”桑乔说，“我刚才说，这位牧人爱上了牧羊姑娘托拉尔瓦。她是位又胖又野的姑娘，有点儿男人气，嘴上还有点儿胡子，那模样仿佛就浮现在我眼前。”

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“那么，你认识她？”唐吉诃德问。

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“不认识，”桑乔说，“不过，给我讲这个故事的人告诉我，故事情节千真万确，如果再给别人讲，可以一口咬定是亲眼所见。后来日子长了，魔鬼是不睡觉的，到处捣乱，让牧人对牧羊姑娘的爱情变成了厌恨。原因就是有些饶舌的人说她对牧羊人的某些行为越轨犯了禁，所以牧羊人从此开始厌恶她。由于不愿意再见到她，牧羊人想离开故乡，到永远看不到她的地方去。托拉尔瓦觉得洛佩小看她，反而爱上他了，虽然在此之前她并不爱他。”

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“这是女人的天性，”唐吉诃德说，“蔑视爱她的人，喜爱蔑视她的人。你接着讲，桑乔。”

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“结果牧羊人打定主意出走。”桑乔说，“他赶着羊，沿着埃斯特雷马杜拉的原野走向葡萄牙王国。托拉尔瓦知道后，光着脚远远地跟在他后面，手里还拿着一支拐杖，脖子上挎着几个褡裢，里面装着一块镜子和一截梳子，还有一个不知装什么脂粉的瓶子。至于她到底带了什么，我现在也不想去研究了。我只讲，据说牧人带着他的羊去渡瓜迪亚纳河。当时河水已涨，几乎漫出了河道。他来到河边，既看不到大船，也看不到小船，没有人可以送他和他的羊到对岸。牧人很难过，因为他看到托拉尔瓦已经很近了，而且一定会又是哀求又是哭地纠缠他。不过，他四下里再找，竟看到一个渔夫，旁边还有一只小船，小得只能装下一个人和一只羊。尽管如此，牧人还是同渔夫商量好，把他和三百只羊送过去。渔夫上了船，送过去一只羊，再回来，又送过去一只羊，再回来，再送过去一只羊。您记着渔夫已经送过去多少只羊了。如果少记一只，故事就没法讲下去了，也不能再讲牧人的事了。我接着讲吧。对岸码头上都是烂泥，很滑，渔夫来来去去很费时间。

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尽管如此，他又回来运了一只羊，又一只，又一只。”

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“你就算把羊全都运过去了吧，”唐吉诃德说，“别这么来来去去地运，这样一年也运不完。”

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“到现在已经运过去多少只羊了？”桑乔问。

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“我怎么会知道，活见鬼！”唐吉诃德说。

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“我刚才跟您说的就是这事。您得好好数着。真是天晓得，现在这个故事断了，讲不下去了。”

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“这怎么可能？”唐吉诃德说，“有多少只羊过去了，对这个故事就那么重要吗？数字没记住，故事就讲不下去了？”

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“讲不下去了，大人，肯定讲不下去了。”桑乔说，“我问您一共有多少只羊过去了，您却说不知道，这下子我脑子里的故事情节全飞了，而那情节很有意义，很有趣。”

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“故事就这么完了？”唐吉诃德问。

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“就像我母亲一样，完了。”桑乔说。

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“说实话，”唐吉诃德说，“你讲了个很新颖的故事或传说，世界上任何人都想不出来。还有你这种既讲又不讲的讲法，我这辈子从来没见到过，当然，我也没指望从你的故事里得到什么东西。不过，我并不奇怪，大概是这些无休止的撞击声扰乱了你的思路。”

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“有可能，”桑乔说，“不过我知道，有多少只羊被送过去的数字一错，故事就断了。”

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“你见好就收吧，”唐吉诃德说，“咱们去看看罗西南多是不是能走路了。”

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唐吉诃德又夹了夹马。马跳了几下又不动了。那绳子拴得很结实。

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这时候天快亮了。桑乔大概是受了早晨的寒气，或者晚上吃了些滑肠的东西，要不就是由于自然属性（这点最可信），忽然想办一件事，而这件事别人又代替不了他。不过，他心里怕得太厉害了，甚至不敢离开主人，哪怕是离开指甲缝宽的距离也不敢。可是，不做他想做的这件事又不可能。于是他采取了折衷的办法，松开那只本来扶在鞍后的右手，又无声无息地用右手利索地解开了裤子的活扣。扣子一解开，裤子就掉了下来，像脚镣似的套在桑乔的脚上。然后，桑乔又尽可能地撩起上衣，露出了一对屁股，还真不小。做完这件事之后（他本以为这就是他解脱窘境时最难办的事），没想到更大的麻烦又来了。原来他以为要腾肚子，不出声是不行的，所以咬紧牙关，抬起肩膀，并且尽可能地屏住呼吸。尽管他想了这么多办法，还是不合时宜地出了点声。这声音同那个让他心惊肉跳的声音完全不同。唐吉诃德听见了，问道：

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“是什么声音，桑乔？”

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“我也不知道，”桑乔说，“大概是什么新东西。倒霉不幸，总是风起云涌。”

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桑乔又试了一次。这次挺好，没像刚才那样发出声音，他终于从那种难受的负担里解脱出来了。可是，唐吉诃德的味觉和他的听觉一样灵敏，桑乔又几乎同他紧贴在一起，那气味差不多是直线上升，难免有一些要跑到他鼻子里。唐吉诃德赶紧用手捏住鼻子，连说话都有些齉：

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“看来你很害怕，桑乔。”

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“是害怕，”桑乔说，“不过，您怎么忽然发现了呢？”

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“是你忽然发出了气味，而且不好闻。”唐吉诃德回答。

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“完全可能，”桑乔说，“可这不怨我。是您深更半夜把我带到这个不寻常的地方来。”

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“你往后退三四步，朋友。”唐吉诃德说这话的时候，手并没有放开鼻子，“以后你得注意点，对我的态度也得注意。

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过去我同你说话太多，所以你才不尊重我。”

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“我打赌，”桑乔说，“您准以为我做了什么不该做的事。”

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“还是少提为好，桑乔朋友。”唐吉诃德说。

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主仆二人说着话度过了夜晚。桑乔看到拂晓将至，就悄悄为罗西南多解开了绳子，自己也系上了裤子。罗西南多天性并不暴烈，可一松开它，它就仿佛感到了疼痛，开始跺蹄子，而扬蹄直立它似乎不会。唐吉诃德看到罗西南多可以走了，觉得是个好兆头，就准备开始征险了。

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此时东方破晓，万物可见。唐吉诃德发现四周高高的栗树遮住了阳光。他能感觉到撞击声前没有停止，可是看不见是谁发出的。他不再耽搁，用马刺踢了一下罗西南多，再次向桑乔告别，吩咐桑乔就像上次说的，最多等自己三天，如果三天后还不回来，那肯定是天意让他在这次征险中送命了。他又提醒桑乔替他向杜尔西内亚夫人传送口信。至于桑乔跟随他应得的报酬，他叫桑乔不要担心，他在离开家乡之前已经立下了遗嘱，桑乔完全可以按照服侍他的时间得到全部工钱。如果上帝保佑，他安然无恙，桑乔也肯定会得到他许诺的小岛。桑乔听到善良的主人这番催人泪下的话，不禁又哭起来，打定主意等着主人，直到事情有了最终结果。

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本文作者根据桑乔的眼泪和决心，断定他生性善良，至少是个老基督徒。桑乔的伤感也触动了唐吉诃德，但是唐吉诃德不愿表现出一丝软弱。相反，他尽力装得若无其事，开始向他认为传来水声和撞击声的方向走去。桑乔仍习惯地拉着他的驴，这是和他荣辱与共的伙伴，紧跟在唐吉诃德后面。他们在那些遮云蔽日的栗树和其它树中间走了很长一段路，发现在高高的岩石脚下有一块草地，一股激流从岩石上飞泻而下。

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岩石脚下有几间破旧的房屋，破得像建筑物的废墟。两人发现撞击声就是从那儿发出来的，而且仍在继续。罗西南多被隆隆的水声和撞击声吓得不轻，唐吉诃德一边安抚它，一边接近那些破屋，心里还虔诚地请求他的夫人在这场可怕的征战中保佑自己。同时，他还请求上帝不要忘了自己。桑乔跟在旁边，伸长脖子从罗西南多的两条腿中间观看，寻找那个让他心惊胆颤的东西。他们又走了大概一百步远，拐过一个角，发现那个令他们失魂落魄、彻夜不安的声音的出处已经赫然在目。原来是（读者请勿见怪）砑布机的六个大槌交替打击发出的巨大声响。

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唐吉诃德见状惊愕得一句话也说不出来，桑乔也满面羞愧地把头垂在胸前。唐吉诃德又看了看桑乔，见他鼓着腮，满嘴含笑，显然有些憋不住了。唐吉诃德对他恼不得，自己也忍不住笑了。桑乔见主人已经开了头，自己也开怀大笑起来，笑得双手捧腹，以免笑破了肚皮。桑乔停了四次，又笑了四次，而且始终笑得那么开心。这回唐吉诃德怒不可遏了。这时，只听桑乔以嘲笑的口吻说：“你该知道，桑乔朋友，承蒙老天厚爱，我出生在这个铁器时代是为了重振金黄时代或黄金时代。各种危险、伟迹和壮举都是为我准备的……”原来是他在模仿唐吉诃德第一次听到撞击时的那番慷慨陈词。

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唐吉诃德见桑乔竟敢取笑自己，恼羞成怒，举起长矛打了桑乔两下。这两下若不是打在桑乔背上，而是打在脑袋上，他就从此不用再付桑乔工钱了，除非是付给桑乔的继承人。桑乔见主人真动了气，怕他还不罢休，便赶紧赔不是，说：

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“您别生气。我向上帝发誓，我只是开个玩笑。”

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“你开玩笑，我可没开玩笑。”唐吉诃德说，“你过来，快乐大人，假如这些东西不是砑布机的大槌，而是险恶的力量，我难道不会一鼓作气，去进攻它，消灭它吗？作为骑士，难道我就该区分出那是不是砑布机的声音吗？而且，我这辈子还没见过这种东西哩。不像你这个乡巴佬，就是在砑布机中间长大的。要不然你把那六十大槌变成六个巨人，让他们一个一个或一起过来，我要是不能把他们打得脚朝天，就随便你怎么取笑我！”

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“别说了，大人，”桑乔说，“我承认我刚才笑得有点过分了。不过，您说，大人，咱们现在没事了，如果上帝保佑您，以后每次都像这回一样逢凶化吉，这难道不该笑吗？还有，咱们当时害怕的样子不可笑吗？至少我那样子可笑。至于您的样子，我现在明白了，您不知道什么是害怕，也不知道什么是恐惧和惊慌。”

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“我不否认咱们刚才遇到的事情可笑，”唐吉诃德说，“不过它不值一提。聪明人看事情也并不总是准确的。”

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“不过您的长矛还是瞄得挺准的，”桑乔说，“指着我的脑袋，多亏上帝保佑，我躲闪得快，才打在我背上。得了，现在事情都清楚了。我听人说过，‘打是疼，骂是爱’。而且我还听说，主人在骂了仆人一句话之后，常常赏给仆人一双袜子。我不知道主人打了仆人几棍子之后会给仆人什么，反正不会像游侠骑士那样，打了侍从几棍子后，就赏给侍从一个小岛或陆地上的王国吧。”

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“这有可能，”唐吉诃德说，“你说的这些有可能成为现实。刚才的事情请你原谅。你是个明白人，知道那几下并非我意。你应该记住，从今以后有件事你得注意，就是跟我说话不能太过分。我读的骑士小说数不胜数，却还没有在任何一本小说里看到有侍从像你这样同主人讲话的。说实在的，我觉得你我都有错。你的错在于对我不够尊重。我的错就是没让你对我很尊重。你看，高卢的阿马迪斯的侍从甘达林是菲尔梅岛的伯爵。书上说，他见主人的时候总是把帽子放在手上，低着头，弯着腰，比土耳其人弯得还要低。还有，唐加劳尔的侍从加萨瓦尔一直默默无闻，以至于我们为了表现他默默无闻的优秀品质，在那个长长的伟大故事里只提到他一次。对他这样的人我们还有什么可说的呢？从我说的这些话里你应该意识到，桑乔，主人与伙计之间，主人与仆人之间，骑士与侍从之间，需要有区别。所以，从今以后，咱们得更庄重，不要嘻嘻哈哈的。而且，无论我怎样跟你生气，你都得忍着。我许诺给你的恩赐，到时候就会给你。要是还没到时候，就像我说过的，工钱至少不会少。”

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“您说的都对，”桑乔说，“可我想知道，那时候，假如恩赐的时候还没到，只好求助于工钱了，一个游侠骑士侍从的工钱是按月计呢，还是像泥瓦匠一样按天算？”

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“我不认为那时的侍从能拿到工钱，”唐吉诃德说，“他们只能得到恩赐。我家里那份秘密遗嘱里提到你，只是为了以防万一。我还不知道在我们这个灾难性时刻应该如何表现骑士的风采。我不愿意让我的灵魂为一点点小事在另一个世界里受苦。我想你该知道，桑乔，世界上没有什么比征险更危险的事了。”

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“的确如此，”桑乔说，“仅一个砑布机大槌的声音就把像您这样勇敢的游侠骑士吓坏了。不过您可以放心，我的嘴决不会再拿您的事开玩笑了，只会把您当作我的再生主人来赞颂。”

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“这样，你就可以在地球上生存了。”唐吉诃德说，“除了父母之外，还应该对主人像对待父母一样尊敬。”

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“It cannot be, senor, but that this grass is a proof that there must be hard by some spring or brook to give it moisture, so it would be well to move a little farther on, that we may find some place where we may quench this terrible thirst that plagues us, which beyond a doubt is more distressing than hunger.”

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The advice seemed good to Don Quixote, and, he leading Rocinante by the bridle and Sancho the ass by the halter, after he had packed away upon him the remains of the supper, they advanced the meadow feeling their way, for the darkness of the night made it impossible to see anything; but they had not gone two hundred paces when a loud noise of water, as if falling from great rocks, struck their ears. The sound cheered them greatly; but halting to make out by listening from what quarter it came they heard unseasonably another noise which spoiled the satisfaction the sound of the water gave them, especially for Sancho, who was by nature timid and faint-hearted. They heard, I say, strokes falling with a measured beat, and a certain rattling of iron and chains that, together with the furious din of the water, would have struck terror into any heart but Don Quixote’s . The night was, as has been said, dark, and they had happened to reach a spot in among some tall trees, whose leaves stirred by a gentle breeze made a low ominous sound; so that, what with the solitude, the place, the darkness, the noise of the water, and the rustling of the leaves, everything inspired awe and dread; more especially as they perceived that the strokes did not cease, nor the wind lull, nor morning approach; to all which might be added their ignorance as to where they were.

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But Don Quixote, supported by his intrepid heart, leaped on Rocinante, and bracing his buckler on his arm, brought his pike to the slope, and said, “Friend Sancho, know that I by Heaven’s will have been born in this our iron age to revive in it the age of gold, or the golden as it is called; I am he for whom perils, mighty achievements, and valiant deeds are reserved; I am, I say again, he who is to revive the Knights of the Round Table, the Twelve of France and the Nine Worthies; and he who is to consign to oblivion the Platirs, the Tablantes, the Olivantes and Tirantes, the Phoebuses and Belianises, with the whole herd of famous knights-errant of days gone by, performing in these in which I live such exploits, marvels, and feats of arms as shall obscure their brightest deeds. Thou dost mark well, faithful and trusty squire, the gloom of this night, its strange silence, the dull confused murmur of those trees, the awful sound of that water in quest of which we came, that seems as though it were precipitating and dashing itself down from the lofty mountains of the Moon, and that incessant hammering that wounds and pains our ears; which things all together and each of itself are enough to instil fear, dread, and dismay into the breast of Mars himself, much more into one not used to hazards and adventures of the kind. Well, then, all this that I put before thee is but an incentive and stimulant to my spirit, making my heart burst in my bosom through eagerness to engage in this adventure, arduous as it promises to be; therefore tighten Rocinante’s girths a little, and God be with thee; wait for me here three days and no more, and if in that time I come not back, thou canst return to our village, and thence, to do me a favour and a service, thou wilt go to El Toboso, where thou shalt say to my incomparable lady Dulcinea that her captive knight hath died in attempting things that might make him worthy of being called hers.”

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When Sancho heard his master’s words he began to weep in the most pathetic way, saying:

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“Senor, I know not why your worship wants to attempt this so dreadful adventure; it is night now, no one sees us here, we can easily turn about and take ourselves out of danger, even if we don’t drink for three days to come; and as there is no one to see us, all the less will there be anyone to set us down as cowards; besides, I have many a time heard the curate of our village, whom your worship knows well, preach that he who seeks danger perishes in it; so it is not right to tempt God by trying so tremendous a feat from which there can be no escape save by a miracle, and Heaven has performed enough of them for your worship in delivering you from being blanketed as I was, and bringing you out victorious and safe and sound from among all those enemies that were with the dead man; and if all this does not move or soften that hard heart, let this thought and reflection move it, that you will have hardly quitted this spot when from pure fear I shall yield my soul up to anyone that will take it. I left home and wife and children to come and serve your worship, trusting to do better and not worse; but as covetousness bursts the bag, it has rent my hopes asunder, for just as I had them highest about getting that wretched unlucky island your worship has so often promised me, I see that instead and in lieu of it you mean to desert me now in a place so far from human reach: for God’s sake, master mine, deal not so unjustly by me, and if your worship will not entirely give up attempting this feat, at least put it off till morning, for by what the lore I learned when I was a shepherd tells me it cannot want three hours of dawn now, because the mouth of the Horn is overhead and makes midnight in the line of the left arm.”

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“How canst thou see, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “where it makes that line, or where this mouth or this occiput is that thou talkest of, when the night is so dark that there is not a star to be seen in the whole heaven?”

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“That’s true,” said Sancho, “but fear has sharp eyes, and sees things underground, much more above in heavens; besides, there is good reason to show that it now wants but little of day.”

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“Let it want what it may,” replied Don Quixote, “it shall not be said of me now or at any time that tears or entreaties turned me aside from doing what was in accordance with knightly usage; and so I beg of thee, Sancho, to hold thy peace, for God, who has put it into my heart to undertake now this so unexampled and terrible adventure, will take care to watch over my safety and console thy sorrow; what thou hast to do is to tighten Rocinante’s girths well, and wait here, for I shall come back shortly, alive or dead.”

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Sancho perceiving it his master’s final resolve, and how little his tears, counsels, and entreaties prevailed with him, determined to have recourse to his own ingenuity and compel him, if he could, to wait till daylight; and so, while tightening the girths of the horse, he quietly and without being felt, with his ass’ halter tied both Rocinante’s legs, so that when Don Quixote strove to go he was unable as the horse could only move by jumps. Seeing the success of his trick, Sancho Panza said:

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“See there, senor! Heaven, moved by my tears and prayers, has so ordered it that Rocinante cannot stir; and if you will be obstinate, and spur and strike him, you will only provoke fortune, and kick, as they say, against the pricks.”

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Don Quixote at this grew desperate, but the more he drove his heels into the horse, the less he stirred him; and not having any suspicion of the tying, he was fain to resign himself and wait till daybreak or until Rocinante could move, firmly persuaded that all this came of something other than Sancho’s ingenuity. So he said to him, “As it is so, Sancho, and as Rocinante cannot move, I am content to wait till dawn smiles upon us, even though I weep while it delays its coming.”

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“There is no need to weep,” answered Sancho, “for I will amuse your worship by telling stories from this till daylight, unless indeed you like to dismount and lie down to sleep a little on the green grass after the fashion of knights-errant, so as to be fresher when day comes and the moment arrives for attempting this extraordinary adventure you are looking forward to.”

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“What art thou talking about dismounting or sleeping for?” said Don Quixote. “Am I, thinkest thou, one of those knights that take their rest in the presence of danger? Sleep thou who art born to sleep, or do as thou wilt, for I will act as I think most consistent with my character.”

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“Be not angry, master mine,” replied Sancho, “I did not mean to say that;” and coming close to him he laid one hand on the pommel of the saddle and the other on the cantle so that he held his master’s left thigh in his embrace, not daring to separate a finger’s width from him; so much afraid was he of the strokes which still resounded with a regular beat. Don Quixote bade him tell some story to amuse him as he had proposed, to which Sancho replied that he would if his dread of what he heard would let him; “Still,” said he, “I will strive to tell a story which, if I can manage to relate it, and nobody interferes with the telling, is the best of stories, and let your worship give me your attention, for here I begin. What was, was; and may the good that is to come be for all, and the evil for him who goes to look for it — your worship must know that the beginning the old folk used to put to their tales was not just as each one pleased; it was a maxim of Cato Zonzorino the Roman, that says ‘the evil for him that goes to look for it,’ and it comes as pat to the purpose now as ring to finger, to show that your worship should keep quiet and not go looking for evil in any quarter, and that we should go back by some other road, since nobody forces us to follow this in which so many terrors affright us.”

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“Go on with thy story, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “and leave the choice of our road to my care.”

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“I say then,” continued Sancho, “that in a village of Estremadura there was a goat-shepherd — that is to say, one who tended goats==which shepherd or goatherd, as my story goes, was called Lope Ruiz, and this Lope Ruiz was in love with a shepherdess called Torralva, which shepherdess called Torralva was the daughter of a rich grazier, and this rich grazier — ”

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“If that is the way thou tellest thy tale, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “repeating twice all thou hast to say, thou wilt not have done these two days; go straight on with it, and tell it like a reasonable man, or else say nothing.”

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“Tales are always told in my country in the very way I am telling this,” answered Sancho, “and I cannot tell it in any other, nor is it right of your worship to ask me to make new customs.”

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“Tell it as thou wilt,” replied Don Quixote; “and as fate will have it that I cannot help listening to thee, go on.”

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“And so, lord of my soul,” continued Sancho, as I have said, this shepherd was in love with Torralva the shepherdess, who was a wild buxom lass with something of the look of a man about her, for she had little moustaches; I fancy I see her now.”

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“Then you knew her?” said Don Quixote.

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“I did not know her,” said Sancho, “but he who told me the story said it was so true and certain that when I told it to another I might safely declare and swear I had seen it all myself. And so in course of time, the devil, who never sleeps and puts everything in confusion, contrived that the love the shepherd bore the shepherdess turned into hatred and ill-will, and the reason, according to evil tongues, was some little jealousy she caused him that crossed the line and trespassed on forbidden ground; and so much did the shepherd hate her from that time forward that, in order to escape from her, he determined to quit the country and go where he should never set eyes on her again. Torralva, when she found herself spurned by Lope, was immediately smitten with love for him, though she had never loved him before.”

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“That is the natural way of women,” said Don Quixote, “to scorn the one that loves them, and love the one that hates them: go on, Sancho.”

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“It came to pass,” said Sancho, “that the shepherd carried out his intention, and driving his goats before him took his way across the plains of Estremadura to pass over into the Kingdom of Portugal. Torralva, who knew of it, went after him, and on foot and barefoot followed him at a distance, with a pilgrim’s staff in her hand and a scrip round her neck, in which she carried, it is said, a bit of looking-glass and a piece of a comb and some little pot or other of paint for her face; but let her carry what she did, I am not going to trouble myself to prove it; all I say is, that the shepherd, they say, came with his flock to cross over the river Guadiana, which was at that time swollen and almost overflowing its banks, and at the spot he came to there was neither ferry nor boat nor anyone to carry him or his flock to the other side, at which he was much vexed, for he perceived that Torralva was approaching and would give him great annoyance with her tears and entreaties; however, he went looking about so closely that he discovered a fisherman who had alongside of him a boat so small that it could only hold one person and one goat; but for all that he spoke to him and agreed with him to carry himself and his three hundred goats across. The fisherman got into the boat and carried one goat over; he came back and carried another over; he came back again, and again brought over another — let your worship keep count of the goats the fisherman is taking across, for if one escapes the memory there will be an end of the story, and it will be impossible to tell another word of it. To proceed, I must tell you the landing place on the other side was miry and slippery, and the fisherman lost a great deal of time in going and coming; still he returned for another goat, and another, and another.”

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“Take it for granted he brought them all across,” said Don Quixote, “and don’t keep going and coming in this way, or thou wilt not make an end of bringing them over this twelvemonth.”

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“How many have gone across so far?” said Sancho.

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“How the devil do I know?” replied Don Quixote.

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“There it is,” said Sancho, “what I told you, that you must keep a good count; well then, by God, there is an end of the story, for there is no going any farther.”

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“How can that be?” said Don Quixote; “is it so essential to the story to know to a nicety the goats that have crossed over, that if there be a mistake of one in the reckoning, thou canst not go on with it?”

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“No, senor, not a bit,” replied Sancho; “for when I asked your worship to tell me how many goats had crossed, and you answered you did not know, at that very instant all I had to say passed away out of my memory, and, faith, there was much virtue in it, and entertainment.”

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“So, then,” said Don Quixote, “the story has come to an end?”

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“As much as my mother has,” said Sancho.

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“In truth,” said Don Quixote, “thou hast told one of the rarest stories, tales, or histories, that anyone in the world could have imagined, and such a way of telling it and ending it was never seen nor will be in a lifetime; though I expected nothing else from thy excellent understanding. But I do not wonder, for perhaps those ceaseless strokes may have confused thy wits.”

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“All that may be,” replied Sancho, “but I know that as to my story, all that can be said is that it ends there where the mistake in the count of the passage of the goats begins.”

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“Let it end where it will, well and good,” said Don Quixote, “and let us see if Rocinante can go;” and again he spurred him, and again Rocinante made jumps and remained where he was, so well tied was he.

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Just then, whether it was the cold of the morning that was now approaching, or that he had eaten something laxative at supper, or that it was only natural (as is most likely), Sancho felt a desire to do what no one could do for him; but so great was the fear that had penetrated his heart, he dared not separate himself from his master by as much as the black of his nail; to escape doing what he wanted was, however, also impossible; so what he did for peace’s sake was to remove his right hand, which held the back of the saddle, and with it to untie gently and silently the running string which alone held up his breeches, so that on loosening it they at once fell down round his feet like fetters; he then raised his shirt as well as he could and bared his hind quarters, no slim ones. But, this accomplished, which he fancied was all he had to do to get out of this terrible strait and embarrassment, another still greater difficulty presented itself, for it seemed to him impossible to relieve himself without making some noise, and he ground his teeth and squeezed his shoulders together, holding his breath as much as he could; but in spite of his precautions he was unlucky enough after all to make a little noise, very different from that which was causing him so much fear.

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Don Quixote, hearing it, said, “What noise is that, Sancho?”

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“I don’t know, senor,” said he; “it must be something new, for adventures and misadventures never begin with a trifle.” Once more he tried his luck, and succeeded so well, that without any further noise or disturbance he found himself relieved of the burden that had given him so much discomfort. But as Don Quixote’s sense of smell was as acute as his hearing, and as Sancho was so closely linked with him that the fumes rose almost in a straight line, it could not be but that some should reach his nose, and as soon as they did he came to its relief by compressing it between his fingers, saying in a rather snuffing tone, “Sancho, it strikes me thou art in great fear.”

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“I am,” answered Sancho; “but how does your worship perceive it now more than ever?”

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“Because just now thou smellest stronger than ever, and not of ambergris,” answered Don Quixote.

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“It makes it worse to stir it, friend Sancho,” returned Don Quixote.

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With this and other talk of the same sort master and man passed the night, till Sancho, perceiving that daybreak was coming on apace, very cautiously untied Rocinante and tied up his breeches. As soon as Rocinante found himself free, though by nature he was not at all mettlesome, he seemed to feel lively and began pawing — for as to capering, begging his pardon, he knew not what it meant. Don Quixote, then, observing that Rocinante could move, took it as a good sign and a signal that he should attempt the dread adventure. By this time day had fully broken and everything showed distinctly, and Don Quixote saw that he was among some tall trees, chestnuts, which cast a very deep shade; he perceived likewise that the sound of the strokes did not cease, but could not discover what caused it, and so without any further delay he let Rocinante feel the spur, and once more taking leave of Sancho, he told him to wait for him there three days at most, as he had said before, and if he should not have returned by that time, he might feel sure it had been God’s will that he should end his days in that perilous adventure. He again repeated the message and commission with which he was to go on his behalf to his lady Dulcinea, and said he was not to be uneasy as to the payment of his services, for before leaving home he had made his will, in which he would find himself fully recompensed in the matter of wages in due proportion to the time he had served; but if God delivered him safe, sound, and unhurt out of that danger, he might look upon the promised island as much more than certain. Sancho began to weep afresh on again hearing the affecting words of his good master, and resolved to stay with him until the final issue and end of the business. From these tears and this honourable resolve of Sancho Panza’s the author of this history infers that he must have been of good birth and at least an old Christian; and the feeling he displayed touched his but not so much as to make him show any weakness; on the contrary, hiding what he felt as well as he could, he began to move towards that quarter whence the sound of the water and of the strokes seemed to come.

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