In Which Is Continued the Story of the Famous Princess Micomicona, with Other Droll Adventures
SANCHO thought it his solemn duty to go to his master at once and inform him of the catastrophe. Dejected, he approached Don Quixote, who had just awakened, and said: "Sir Rueful Countenance, your Worship may as well sleep on, without troubling yourself about killing or restoring her kingdom to the Princess; for that is all over and settled now."
Don Quixote agreed with his squire enthusiastically, and then told him of the tremendous battle he had just had with the giant, dwelling particularly upon the great amount of blood that flowed when the giant's head was cut off.
"Red wine, your Worship means," said Sancho, "and no less than twenty-four gallons, all of which has to be paid for! The Princess your Worship will find turned into a private lady named Dorothea; and there is much more that will astonish your Worship."
Whereupon there ensued a rich and varied conversation between master and servant. When Don Quixote heard his squire confound blood with wine, he called him a fool. And when he heard that his Princess had turned into a simple Dorothea, the fears he had entertained during his past visit to the inn, began to return, and he decided that the place was enchanted. But of that his squire could not be convinced, for the episode of the blanketing still remained a most vivid reality to him. Had it not been for that, he repeated, he could have believed it readily.
Meanwhile the curate had been telling Don Fernando and the others of Don Quixote's strange malady; he described how they had succeeded in taking him away from the wilderness and his self-inflicted penance, and told them all the strange adventures he had heard Sancho relate. They were greatly amused and thought it the most remarkable craze they had ever heard of. Don Fernando was eager that Dorothea should continue playing her part, and they all decided to come along on the journey to the village in La Mancha.
At this moment Don Quixote entered in his regalia, the barber's basin on his head, spear in hand, and with the buckler on his arm. Don Fernando was struck with astonishment and laughter at the sight of the mixed armament and the peculiar long yellow face of the knight. After a silence, Don Quixote turned to Dorothea and repeated his vow to regain her kingdom for her. He said he approved heartily of the magic interference of the spirit of the king, her father, who had devised this new state of hers, that of a private maiden, in which guise she would no doubt be more secure from evil influence on her journey to her home.
His ignorant squire broke in when his master related of his battle in the garret, and inferred irreverently and rather loudly that he had attacked wine-skins instead of giants, but Don Fernando quickly made him be quiet. Dorothea rose and thanked our rueful knight at the end of his speech for the renewed offer of his sword.
Having listened to her lovely voice, Don Quixote turned angrily to his squire and reprimanded him for being a disbeliever, saying that he could now judge for himself what a fool he had made of himself. Sancho replied that he hoped he had made a mistake about the Princess not being a princess, but that as to the wine-skins, there could be no doubt, for the punctured skins he had seen himself at the head of Don Quixote's bed—and had not the garret floor been turned into a lake of wine? Whereupon his master swore at his stupidity, until Don Fernando interrupted and proposed that they spend the evening in pleasant conversation at the inn instead of continuing their journey that night.
While that was being agreed upon, two travelers, a man and a woman, dressed in Moorish fashion, came to the inn. They asked for rooms overnight, but were told there were none to be had. Dorothea felt sorry for the strange lady—whose face was covered with a veil—and told her that she and Luscinda would gladly share their room with her. The lady rose from her chair, bowed her head and made a sign with her hands as if to thank them; and they concluded, because of her silence, that she could not speak their language. At this moment her companion returned to her and, seeing her surrounded by the guests at the inn, he confirmed what they had thought, for he made the remark that it was useless to address any questions to her as she could speak no other tongue than her own. They explained that they had asked no questions, but had only offered her quarters for the night. When the stranger learned this, it seemed to please him very much, and he thanked them profusely.
As they were all curious to know who the lady was, they asked the stranger whether or not she was a Christian. He replied that while she was not, she wished to become one; and he informed them that she was a lady of high rank from Algiers. This excited a desire to see her face as well as to know whom she might be, and Dorothea could not resist the temptation of asking her to remove her veil. When her companion had told her Dorothea's desire, and the Moorish lady had removed her veil, they all stood in awe, for they beheld a face that seemed to them lovelier than any they had ever beheld before. Don Fernando asked her name, and the stranger replied it was Lela Zoraida; but when the fair lady heard him speak this name, she exclaimed emphatically that she was called Maria and not Zoraida. Luscinda embraced her in a loving way and said they would call her by that name.
The supper was now ready and all placed themselves at a long table, at the head of which Don Quixote was asked to seat himself. At his request Dorothea—as the Princess Micomicona in disguise—sat on his right. All were merry and content and many pleasantries were passed. But suddenly Don Quixote stopped eating, rose, and with inspiration in his eyes and voice, began a long discourse on knight-errantry, reviewing the great good it had done for mankind. The language he used was so perfect, his manners so free and easy, and his delivery possessed of such charm, that his listeners could hardly make themselves believe they were in the presence of one who was demented.