CHAPTER XVIII.

IN WHICH IS RELATED THE DISCOURSE SANCHO PANZA HELD WITH HIS MASTER, DON
QUIXOTE, AND OTHER ADVENTURES WORTH RELATING

Sancho reached his master so limp and faint that he could not urge on his
beast. When Don Quixote saw the state he was in he said, "I have now come
to the conclusion, good Sancho, that this castle or inn is beyond a doubt
enchanted, because those who have so atrociously diverted themselves with
thee, what can they be but phantoms or beings of another world? and I
hold this confirmed by having noticed that when I was by the wall of the
yard witnessing the acts of thy sad tragedy, it was out of my power to
mount upon it, nor could I even dismount from Rocinante, because they no
doubt had me enchanted; for I swear to thee by the faith of what I am
that if I had been able to climb up or dismount, I would have avenged
thee in such a way that those braggart thieves would have remembered
their freak for ever, even though in so doing I knew that I contravened
the laws of chivalry, which, as I have often told thee, do not permit a
knight to lay hands on him who is not one, save in case of urgent and
great necessity in defence of his own life and person."

"I would have avenged myself too if I could," said Sancho, "whether I had
been dubbed knight or not, but I could not; though for my part I am
persuaded those who amused themselves with me were not phantoms or
enchanted men, as your worship says, but men of flesh and bone like
ourselves; and they all had their names, for I heard them name them when
they were tossing me, and one was called Pedro Martinez, and another
Tenorio Hernandez, and the innkeeper, I heard, was called Juan Palomeque
the Left-handed; so that, senor, your not being able to leap over the
wall of the yard or dismount from your horse came of something else
besides enchantments; and what I make out clearly from all this is, that
these adventures we go seeking will in the end lead us into such
misadventures that we shall not know which is our right foot; and that
the best and wisest thing, according to my small wits, would be for us to
return home, now that it is harvest-time, and attend to our business, and
give over wandering from Zeca to Mecca and from pail to bucket, as the
saying is."

"How little thou knowest about chivalry, Sancho," replied Don Quixote;
"hold thy peace and have patience; the day will come when thou shalt see
with thine own eyes what an honourable thing it is to wander in the
pursuit of this calling; nay, tell me, what greater pleasure can there be
in the world, or what delight can equal that of winning a battle, and
triumphing over one's enemy? None, beyond all doubt."

"Very likely," answered Sancho, "though I do not know it; all I know is
that since we have been knights-errant, or since your worship has been
one (for I have no right to reckon myself one of so honourable a number)
we have never won any battle except the one with the Biscayan, and even
out of that your worship came with half an ear and half a helmet the
less; and from that till now it has been all cudgellings and more
cudgellings, cuffs and more cuffs, I getting the blanketing over and
above, and falling in with enchanted persons on whom I cannot avenge
myself so as to know what the delight, as your worship calls it, of
conquering an enemy is like."

"That is what vexes me, and what ought to vex thee, Sancho," replied Don
Quixote; "but henceforward I will endeavour to have at hand some sword
made by such craft that no kind of enchantments can take effect upon him
who carries it, and it is even possible that fortune may procure for me
that which belonged to Amadis when he was called 'The Knight of the
Burning Sword,' which was one of the best swords that ever knight in the
world possessed, for, besides having the said virtue, it cut like a
razor, and there was no armour, however strong and enchanted it might be,
that could resist it."

"Such is my luck," said Sancho, "that even if that happened and your
worship found some such sword, it would, like the balsam, turn out
serviceable and good for dubbed knights only, and as for the squires,
they might sup sorrow."

"Fear not that, Sancho," said Don Quixote: "Heaven will deal better by
thee."

Thus talking, Don Quixote and his squire were going along, when, on the
road they were following, Don Quixote perceived approaching them a large
and thick cloud of dust, on seeing which he turned to Sancho and said:

"This is the day, Sancho, on which will be seen the boon my fortune is
reserving for me; this, I say, is the day on which as much as on any
other shall be displayed the might of my arm, and on which I shall do
deeds that shall remain written in the book of fame for all ages to come.
Seest thou that cloud of dust which rises yonder? Well, then, all that is
churned up by a vast army composed of various and countless nations that
comes marching there."

"According to that there must be two," said Sancho, "for on this opposite
side also there rises just such another cloud of dust."

Don Quixote turned to look and found that it was true, and rejoicing
exceedingly, he concluded that they were two armies about to engage and
encounter in the midst of that broad plain; for at all times and seasons
his fancy was full of the battles, enchantments, adventures, crazy feats,
loves, and defiances that are recorded in the books of chivalry, and
everything he said, thought, or did had reference to such things. Now the
cloud of dust he had seen was raised by two great droves of sheep coming
along the same road in opposite directions, which, because of the dust,
did not become visible until they drew near, but Don Quixote asserted so
positively that they were armies that Sancho was led to believe it and
say, "Well, and what are we to do, senor?"

"What?" said Don Quixote: "give aid and assistance to the weak and those
who need it; and thou must know, Sancho, that this which comes opposite
to us is conducted and led by the mighty emperor Alifanfaron, lord of the
great isle of Trapobana; this other that marches behind me is that of his
enemy the king of the Garamantas, Pentapolin of the Bare Arm, for he
always goes into battle with his right arm bare."

"But why are these two lords such enemies?"

"They are at enmity," replied Don Quixote, "because this Alifanfaron is a
furious pagan and is in love with the daughter of Pentapolin, who is a
very beautiful and moreover gracious lady, and a Christian, and her
father is unwilling to bestow her upon the pagan king unless he first
abandons the religion of his false prophet Mahomet, and adopts his own."

"By my beard," said Sancho, "but Pentapolin does quite right, and I will
help him as much as I can."

"In that thou wilt do what is thy duty, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for
to engage in battles of this sort it is not requisite to be a dubbed
knight."

"That I can well understand," answered Sancho; "but where shall we put
this ass where we may be sure to find him after the fray is over? for I
believe it has not been the custom so far to go into battle on a beast of
this kind."

"That is true," said Don Quixote, "and what you had best do with him is
to leave him to take his chance whether he be lost or not, for the horses
we shall have when we come out victors will be so many that even
Rocinante will run a risk of being changed for another. But attend to me
and observe, for I wish to give thee some account of the chief knights
who accompany these two armies; and that thou mayest the better see and
mark, let us withdraw to that hillock which rises yonder, whence both
armies may be seen."

They did so, and placed themselves on a rising ground from which the two
droves that Don Quixote made armies of might have been plainly seen if
the clouds of dust they raised had not obscured them and blinded the
sight; nevertheless, seeing in his imagination what he did not see and
what did not exist, he began thus in a loud voice:

"That knight whom thou seest yonder in yellow armour, who bears upon his
shield a lion crowned crouching at the feet of a damsel, is the valiant
Laurcalco, lord of the Silver Bridge; that one in armour with flowers of
gold, who bears on his shield three crowns argent on an azure field, is
the dreaded Micocolembo, grand duke of Quirocia; that other of gigantic
frame, on his right hand, is the ever dauntless Brandabarbaran de
Boliche, lord of the three Arabias, who for armour wears that serpent
skin, and has for shield a gate which, according to tradition, is one of
those of the temple that Samson brought to the ground when by his death
he revenged himself upon his enemies. But turn thine eyes to the other
side, and thou shalt see in front and in the van of this other army the
ever victorious and never vanquished Timonel of Carcajona, prince of New
Biscay, who comes in armour with arms quartered azure, vert, white, and
yellow, and bears on his shield a cat or on a field tawny with a motto
which says Miau, which is the beginning of the name of his lady, who
according to report is the peerless Miaulina, daughter of the duke
Alfeniquen of the Algarve; the other, who burdens and presses the loins
of that powerful charger and bears arms white as snow and a shield blank
and without any device, is a novice knight, a Frenchman by birth, Pierres
Papin by name, lord of the baronies of Utrique; that other, who with
iron-shod heels strikes the flanks of that nimble parti-coloured zebra,
and for arms bears azure vair, is the mighty duke of Nerbia,
Espartafilardo del Bosque, who bears for device on his shield an
asparagus plant with a motto in Castilian that says, Rastrea mi suerte."
And so he went on naming a number of knights of one squadron or the other
out of his imagination, and to all he assigned off-hand their arms,
colours, devices, and mottoes, carried away by the illusions of his
unheard-of craze; and without a pause, he continued, "People of divers
nations compose this squadron in front; here are those that drink of the
sweet waters of the famous Xanthus, those that scour the woody Massilian
plains, those that sift the pure fine gold of Arabia Felix, those that
enjoy the famed cool banks of the crystal Thermodon, those that in many
and various ways divert the streams of the golden Pactolus, the
Numidians, faithless in their promises, the Persians renowned in archery,
the Parthians and the Medes that fight as they fly, the Arabs that ever
shift their dwellings, the Scythians as cruel as they are fair, the
Ethiopians with pierced lips, and an infinity of other nations whose
features I recognise and descry, though I cannot recall their names. In
this other squadron there come those that drink of the crystal streams of
the olive-bearing Betis, those that make smooth their countenances with
the water of the ever rich and golden Tagus, those that rejoice in the
fertilising flow of the divine Genil, those that roam the Tartesian
plains abounding in pasture, those that take their pleasure in the
Elysian meadows of Jerez, the rich Manchegans crowned with ruddy ears of
corn, the wearers of iron, old relics of the Gothic race, those that
bathe in the Pisuerga renowned for its gentle current, those that feed
their herds along the spreading pastures of the winding Guadiana famed
for its hidden course, those that tremble with the cold of the pineclad
Pyrenees or the dazzling snows of the lofty Apennine; in a word, as many
as all Europe includes and contains."

Good God! what a number of countries and nations he named! giving to each
its proper attributes with marvellous readiness; brimful and saturated
with what he had read in his lying books! Sancho Panza hung upon his
words without speaking, and from time to time turned to try if he could
see the knights and giants his master was describing, and as he could not
make out one of them he said to him:

"Senor, devil take it if there's a sign of any man you talk of, knight or
giant, in the whole thing; maybe it's all enchantment, like the phantoms
last night."

"How canst thou say that!" answered Don Quixote; "dost thou not hear the
neighing of the steeds, the braying of the trumpets, the roll of the
drums?"

"I hear nothing but a great bleating of ewes and sheep," said Sancho;
which was true, for by this time the two flocks had come close.

"The fear thou art in, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "prevents thee from
seeing or hearing correctly, for one of the effects of fear is to derange
the senses and make things appear different from what they are; if thou
art in such fear, withdraw to one side and leave me to myself, for alone
I suffice to bring victory to that side to which I shall give my aid;"
and so saying he gave Rocinante the spur, and putting the lance in rest,
shot down the slope like a thunderbolt. Sancho shouted after him, crying,
"Come back, Senor Don Quixote; I vow to God they are sheep and ewes you
are charging! Come back! Unlucky the father that begot me! what madness
is this! Look, there is no giant, nor knight, nor cats, nor arms, nor
shields quartered or whole, nor vair azure or bedevilled. What are you
about? Sinner that I am before God!" But not for all these entreaties did
Don Quixote turn back; on the contrary he went on shouting out, "Ho,
knights, ye who follow and fight under the banners of the valiant emperor
Pentapolin of the Bare Arm, follow me all; ye shall see how easily I
shall give him his revenge over his enemy Alifanfaron of the Trapobana."

So saying, he dashed into the midst of the squadron of ewes, and began
spearing them with as much spirit and intrepidity as if he were
transfixing mortal enemies in earnest. The shepherds and drovers
accompanying the flock shouted to him to desist; seeing it was no use,
they ungirt their slings and began to salute his ears with stones as big
as one's fist. Don Quixote gave no heed to the stones, but, letting drive
right and left kept saying:

"Where art thou, proud Alifanfaron? Come before me; I am a single knight
who would fain prove thy prowess hand to hand, and make thee yield thy
life a penalty for the wrong thou dost to the valiant Pentapolin
Garamanta." Here came a sugar-plum from the brook that struck him on the
side and buried a couple of ribs in his body. Feeling himself so smitten,
he imagined himself slain or badly wounded for certain, and recollecting
his liquor he drew out his flask, and putting it to his mouth began to
pour the contents into his stomach; but ere he had succeeded in
swallowing what seemed to him enough, there came another almond which
struck him on the hand and on the flask so fairly that it smashed it to
pieces, knocking three or four teeth and grinders out of his mouth in its
course, and sorely crushing two fingers of his hand. Such was the force
of the first blow and of the second, that the poor knight in spite of
himself came down backwards off his horse. The shepherds came up, and
felt sure they had killed him; so in all haste they collected their flock
together, took up the dead beasts, of which there were more than seven,
and made off without waiting to ascertain anything further.

All this time Sancho stood on the hill watching the crazy feats his
master was performing, and tearing his beard and cursing the hour and the
occasion when fortune had made him acquainted with him. Seeing him, then,
brought to the ground, and that the shepherds had taken themselves off,
he ran to him and found him in very bad case, though not unconscious; and
said he:

"Did I not tell you to come back, Senor Don Quixote; and that what you
were going to attack were not armies but droves of sheep?"

"That's how that thief of a sage, my enemy, can alter and falsify
things," answered Don Quixote; "thou must know, Sancho, that it is a very
easy matter for those of his sort to make us believe what they choose;
and this malignant being who persecutes me, envious of the glory he knew
I was to win in this battle, has turned the squadrons of the enemy into
droves of sheep. At any rate, do this much, I beg of thee, Sancho, to
undeceive thyself, and see that what I say is true; mount thy ass and
follow them quietly, and thou shalt see that when they have gone some
little distance from this they will return to their original shape and,
ceasing to be sheep, become men in all respects as I described them to
thee at first. But go not just yet, for I want thy help and assistance;
come hither, and see how many of my teeth and grinders are missing, for I
feel as if there was not one left in my mouth."

Sancho came so close that he almost put his eyes into his mouth; now just
at that moment the balsam had acted on the stomach of Don Quixote, so, at
the very instant when Sancho came to examine his mouth, he discharged all
its contents with more force than a musket, and full into the beard of
the compassionate squire.

"Holy Mary!" cried Sancho, "what is this that has happened me? Clearly
this sinner is mortally wounded, as he vomits blood from the mouth;" but
considering the matter a little more closely he perceived by the colour,
taste, and smell, that it was not blood but the balsam from the flask
which he had seen him drink; and he was taken with such a loathing that
his stomach turned, and he vomited up his inside over his very master,
and both were left in a precious state. Sancho ran to his ass to get
something wherewith to clean himself, and relieve his master, out of his
alforjas; but not finding them, he well-nigh took leave of his senses,
and cursed himself anew, and in his heart resolved to quit his master and
return home, even though he forfeited the wages of his service and all
hopes of the promised island.

Don Quixote now rose, and putting his left hand to his mouth to keep his
teeth from falling out altogether, with the other he laid hold of the
bridle of Rocinante, who had never stirred from his master's side--so
loyal and well-behaved was he--and betook himself to where the squire
stood leaning over his ass with his hand to his cheek, like one in deep
dejection. Seeing him in this mood, looking so sad, Don Quixote said to
him:

"Bear in mind, Sancho, that one man is no more than another, unless he
does more than another; all these tempests that fall upon us are signs
that fair weather is coming shortly, and that things will go well with
us, for it is impossible for good or evil to last for ever; and hence it
follows that the evil having lasted long, the good must be now nigh at
hand; so thou must not distress thyself at the misfortunes which happen
to me, since thou hast no share in them."

"How have I not?" replied Sancho; "was he whom they blanketed yesterday
perchance any other than my father's son? and the alforjas that are
missing to-day with all my treasures, did they belong to any other but
myself?"

"What! are the alforjas missing, Sancho?" said Don Quixote.

"Yes, they are missing," answered Sancho.

"In that case we have nothing to eat to-day," replied Don Quixote.

"It would be so," answered Sancho, "if there were none of the herbs your
worship says you know in these meadows, those with which knights-errant
as unlucky as your worship are wont to supply such-like shortcomings."

"For all that," answered Don Quixote, "I would rather have just now a
quarter of bread, or a loaf and a couple of pilchards' heads, than all
the herbs described by Dioscorides, even with Doctor Laguna's notes.
Nevertheless, Sancho the Good, mount thy beast and come along with me,
for God, who provides for all things, will not fail us (more especially
when we are so active in his service as we are), since he fails not the
midges of the air, nor the grubs of the earth, nor the tadpoles of the
water, and is so merciful that he maketh his sun to rise on the good and
on the evil, and sendeth rain on the unjust and on the just."

"Your worship would make a better preacher than knight-errant," said
Sancho.

"Knights-errant knew and ought to know everything, Sancho," said Don
Quixote; "for there were knights-errant in former times as well qualified
to deliver a sermon or discourse in the middle of an encampment, as if
they had graduated in the University of Paris; whereby we may see that
the lance has never blunted the pen, nor the pen the lance."

"Well, be it as your worship says," replied Sancho; "let us be off now
and find some place of shelter for the night, and God grant it may be
somewhere where there are no blankets, nor blanketeers, nor phantoms, nor
enchanted Moors; for if there are, may the devil take the whole concern."

"Ask that of God, my son," said Don Quixote; "and do thou lead on where
thou wilt, for this time I leave our lodging to thy choice; but reach me
here thy hand, and feel with thy finger, and find out how many of my
teeth and grinders are missing from this right side of the upper jaw, for
it is there I feel the pain."

Sancho put in his fingers, and feeling about asked him, "How many
grinders used your worship have on this side?"

"Four," replied Don Quixote, "besides the back-tooth, all whole and quite
sound."

"Mind what you are saying, senor."

"I say four, if not five," answered Don Quixote, "for never in my life
have I had tooth or grinder drawn, nor has any fallen out or been
destroyed by any decay or rheum."

"Well, then," said Sancho, "in this lower side your worship has no more
than two grinders and a half, and in the upper neither a half nor any at
all, for it is all as smooth as the palm of my hand."

"Luckless that I am!" said Don Quixote, hearing the sad news his squire
gave him; "I had rather they despoiled me of an arm, so it were not the
sword-arm; for I tell thee, Sancho, a mouth without teeth is like a mill
without a millstone, and a tooth is much more to be prized than a
diamond; but we who profess the austere order of chivalry are liable to
all this. Mount, friend, and lead the way, and I will follow thee at
whatever pace thou wilt."

Sancho did as he bade him, and proceeded in the direction in which he
thought he might find refuge without quitting the high road, which was
there very much frequented. As they went along, then, at a slow pace--for
the pain in Don Quixote's jaws kept him uneasy and ill-disposed for
speed--Sancho thought it well to amuse and divert him by talk of some
kind, and among the things he said to him was that which will be told in
the following chapter.