Wherein Is Continued the Droll Adventure of the Puppet-Showman, Together with Other Things in Truth Right Good
THE play, which depicted how Melisendra was released by her husband, Señor Don Gaiferos, from the hands of the Moors in the city of Sansueña, now called Saragossa, had only proceeded a short way when Don Quixote became impatient with the young man who was making the explanations to the audience. The knight thought he drifted into unnecessary and superfluous language, and was quick to reprimand him. The show was continued, and again Don Quixote broke in, criticising some of the stage effects: bells were never used by the Moors, only kettledrums, he said. But here Master Pedro begged him not to be so particular, pleading that the show was given for the sake of amusement.
Don Quixote acceded, and the show began again.
But it was not long before a number of horsemen were galloping across the stage in pursuit of the two lovers. Their escape was accompanied by such blowing of horns and trumpets and beating of drums, that the noise and din of it all were too much for the poor knight's imagination which was now stirred to such a pitch that he believed himself in the midst of a real battle. He drew his sword and plunged against the Moorish horseman with such vehemence and force, cutting and slashing in all directions, that every one in the room was aghast at his madness, and ran to hide in safety. Master Pedro came within an inch of having his ear, not to say his whole head, cut off, and Don Quixote's fury was not at an end until he had decapitated all the Moorish pasteboard figures. Lucky it was that no blood could flow from them, or there would have been a plentiful stream of it. The ape took refuge on the roof, frightened out of his poor wits, and even Sancho Panza was more than ordinarily shaken with fear, for he admitted that he had never seen his master so wrought up.
When Don Quixote was certain of complete victory—in other words, destruction—he turned and addressed those who had dared to return after the storm: "I wish I had here before me now all those who do not or will not believe how useful knights errant are in the world. Just think, if I had not been here present, what would have become of the brave Don Gaiferos and the fair Melisendra!"
But Master Pedro was lamenting the loss of all his emperors and kings and knights and horses, and Sancho was so touched by what he said it would cost him to buy a new show, that he pleaded with his master to make restitution; and, although Don Quixote could not see that he had done any wrong, he generously ordered his squire to pay Master Pedro the sum of forty reals and three quarters, the landlord having duly functioned as arbiter and agreed that that was a fair price for the damage done to the figures. Besides this amount, Master Pedro was allotted two reals for his trouble in catching the ape.
While they were summing up, Don Quixote, however, had only one thought in his mind. He was wondering whether Melisendra and her husband had reached safety by this time: so possessed was he of his infernal imagination. Master Pedro promised him that as soon as he had caught his ape, he would put the question to him; and the showman began to worry about his African companion, hoping that he would soon be hungry, for then he would know whether he was still alive.
The rest of the evening was passed in peace, and drinking at Don Quixote's expense, and soon it was morning, and the man with the halberds took his departure. The scholar and the page left, too, and Don Quixote generously gave the page twelve reals. But the first one to depart was the showman: he was afraid that the knight might have another outbreak, and he had no desire to experience it twice, and perhaps lose his ape, which he had now caught.
The landlord was extremely pleased with Don Quixote's generosity, and was sorry to see him depart; but his madness he could make neither head nor tail of, for he had never seen any one thus afflicted.