In Which Are Continued the Unheard-of Adventures at the Inn
WHEN the landlord heard the terrible outcries of Don Quixote, he ran, greatly excited, to see who could be giving vent to such agony. The travelers joined him; and the Asturian maid was stirred to quick action by a bad conscience, as well as by the excited state of her master. She untied the halter, and Don Quixote fell so suddenly that his meager body landed like a dead weight on the ground.
The landlord and the travelers found him there, and asked him impatiently why he was making such a tremendous noise. He ignored their question entirely, pulled the rope off his wrist, and mounted his charger with as much nonchalance and elegance as his stiff limbs would permit. Then he haughtily raised his head, after having adjusted all his knightly paraphernalia, and circled down the field, returning in a canter. Having halted Rocinante, he bellowed out to those assembled "Whoever shall say that I have been enchanted with just cause, provided my lady the Princess Micomicona grants me permission to do so, I give him the lie, challenge him and defy him to single combat."
The landlord saw at once the effect these words of the poor demented knight had on his newly arrived guests, so he hastened to explain Don Quixote's condition to them. They then asked whether the innkeeper had seen a youth dressed like a muleteer. He replied that he had not; but just then one of the men exclaimed that the youth must be there, since the Judge's coach—which he had suddenly observed—was there. They then decided to dissemble, each one going to a different entrance of the inn, so there would be no chance for the youth to escape.
The landlord was curious to know what it was all about, but could arrive at no conclusion. The truth was that these men were servants of the young muleteer's father. And it was not long ere they had discovered him, lying asleep, never thinking that he would himself be pursued. The servant who roused him made a few caustic remarks to the young Don Luis—for this was his name—about his bed and the luxury of his surroundings, as particularly befitting a youth of his rank and breeding.
Don Luis could not at first believe that he was really awake. He rubbed his eyes in astonishment, and failed to find a reply to the servant's remarks. The man then continued, advising his young master to return to his home at once, saying that his father, as a result of his disappearance, was dangerously ill. The youth was curious to learn how his father had found out what road he had taken and that he had disguised himself as a muleteer. The servant answered that a student to whom Don Luis had confided his love for Doña Clara, had told his master everything, when he saw how he suffered.
Now, it chanced that another muleteer, who had been sleeping with Don Luis, could not keep what he was hearing to himself; besides, he deemed it best to disappear from the scene. He informed some of the guests of what had occurred, and thus it happened that Don Fernando and Cardenio learned of the plight of the young singer, whose voice they had so admired a short time before; and when the muleteer told them that his comrade was a young nobleman in disguise, they decided to go and help him in his quandary.
They found the four men entreating Don Luis to return to his father; and the youth emphatically refusing to do so, saying that they might take him dead, but never alive.
At this moment Dorothea saw Cardenio from her window, and she called him and told him the story of the lad and Doña Clara. He in turn related to her how the servants of the youth's father had come to take him back to his home. In telling Dorothea this news Cardenio was overheard by Doña Clara who would have swooned had not Dorothea supported her.
By this time the servants had brought Don Luis into the inn, threatening to take him back by force should he not go willingly. Again he protested, and at last the argument attracted all the guests, including Don Quixote, who had ceased his duties as guard for the present. The Judge was there too, and when one of the servants recognized in him their neighbor in Madrid, he pleaded with him to do all he could to make the young man return to his ill father.
The Judge turned to the young muleteer, and saw that it was his neighbor's son; whereupon he embraced him and asked in a fatherly way what had brought him there dressed in such a manner. With his arm around the youth's neck, the Judge withdrew with the lad to discuss the reasons for his disguise and for his leaving his father.
While the kindly Judge was thus occupied with Don Luis, a tumult suddenly arose at the gate of the inn. It was the landlord, trying to hold back two guests who had attempted to get away without paying. The innkeeper was stubbornly clinging to the garb of one of the adventurers, and in return was being pummeled mercilessly, until his face was a study in dark and fast colors, except his nose, which was tinted a running red. As soon as the landlady perceived her mate's distress, the thought struck her that this would be a most worthy opportunity for our valiant knight errant to show his skill as a swordsman and a wielder of the lance. So she dispatched her daughter, the fair young lady of the castle, to bring the knight her message of distress.
Don Quixote received the young lady calmly and courteously, but said that he was in honor bound to engage in no combat except by the express permission of her Royal Highness the Princess Micomicona; she having granted it, there could be no doubt as to the outcome of any battle in which he chose to draw his sword. Seeing this, in her opinion, ill-timed hesitancy, the one-eyed Asturian muttered that by the time the Princess was found, her master would have passed the heavenly border. The Princess, however, was quickly summoned, and Don Quixote knelt on his stiff knees before her; but ere he had finished his long harangue of request, she—having been advised of the urgency of the situation—had already given him permission and wished him godspeed.
Don Quixote arose and drew his sword, paced toward the gate, and then suddenly stopped short. All wondered what had happened to cause his hesitating thus, and the Asturian maid expressed her wonder aloud. Don Quixote was not long about the answer. He replied at once that this was no business for him; they had best call his squire. It was for Sancho, he said, that he reserved the task and joy of fighting such lowly people as the ones he saw before him here and now.
Now, while all of this was taking place, Don Luis, with tears in his eyes, was confessing to Doña Clara's father his great and indomitable love for her. This placed the Judge in a curious predicament, for he found himself forced to sit in judgment on the welfare of his own child. He was so taken with the charm and intelligence of the youth that he was anxious to have him for a son-in-law, particularly as his family was one of distinction, and extremely rich. Yet his better judgment told him that it would be wise to wait another day before giving his consent. He would have preferred to have Don Luis' father approve of the marriage, although he thought it almost certain that this gentleman would like to see his son married to a titled lady.
And while the fate of the young lovers was being weighed by the Judge, peace had been declared between the innkeeper and the two travelers who, persuaded by the chivalrous words of Don Quixote, and the summoning of Sancho, had been made to see the light and pay the bill. By this time everything was settled amicably, the landlord having demanded no special indemnity for his battered, many-colored face.
But who should loom up on the scene, now that everything was peaceful again, but the owner of Mambrino's golden helmet! This particular barber was now leading his donkey to the stable, when he suddenly discovered Sancho Panza hard at work repairing the barber's own trappings, which our Sancho had taken as booty at the time his master fell heir to the helmet. The barber left his donkey at no slow speed and ran towards Sancho, to whom he exclaimed threateningly "There, you thief, I have caught you! Give me my basin and my pack-saddle, and everything you robbed me of!"
But Sancho was not willing to give up so easily things that he had gained as spoils in righteous warfare. He refuted with his fists, as well as by argument, the barber's coarse suggestion that he was a common highwayman; and his master, coming up at this instant, was proud and pleased to hear his faithful squire talk like that, and also to see the barber's teeth gone, which the force of Sancho's blow evidently had carried away. As a matter of fact, Sancho's demonstration of physical strength made such a profound impression on Don Quixote, that he decided his squire was not far from being eligible to knighthood.
As soon as the barber was able to make himself heard again, he began to arraign both master and squire. He was not to be subdued. He told all that quickly gathered round them that they could assure themselves of the truth of what he said by fitting Sancho's saddle to his own steed; furthermore, he said, they had plundered him of a basin.
When Don Quixote heard this ridiculous accusation, his lips twisted into a scornful smile. He dispatched Sancho to fetch the helmet—which seemed to Sancho a dangerous move—and when Sancho returned with the basin, Don Quixote held it up with great self-assurance before everybody.
"Your worships," said he, "may see with what face this squire can assert that this is a basin and not the helmet I told you of; and I swear by the order of chivalry I profess, that this helmet is the identical one I took from him, without anything added to or removed."
This statement was corroborated in detail by Sancho, who added: "Since that battle my master has fought in the helmet only once. That was when he let loose the unfortunate ones in chains. And if it had not been for this basin-helmet he might have been killed in that engagement, for there were plenty of stones raining down on him at that time."