CHAPTER LII
Wherein Three Delectable Epistles Are Read By the Duchess
DON QUIXOTE had now been healed of his scratches, and he began to long for the road; for the life was too easy, he thought, for one who had dedicated himself to knight-errantry and valorous deeds. But the day he had decided to break the news to the Duke and the Duchess, the messenger that the Duchess had sent to Sancho's wife returned, bringing with him two letters, one addressed to "The Duchess So-and-so, of I don't know where," and the other one to "The Governor, Sancho Panza of the Island of Barataria, whom God prosper longer than me!"
The Duchess was so eager to read her letter that she opened it at once; and having read it to herself, she felt she ought to give amusement to the others too, so she read it aloud to all who were there. She was dying to see what the letter to the Governor contained, so she asked Don Quixote whether he thought it would be a breach of etiquette to read it; and Don Quixote took it upon himself, as Sancho's late master and guardian, to open it. Then he read it to the Duke and the Duchess, who laughed to their heart's content at the many drolleries with which Teresa Panza had stuffed her epistle.
Just as the merriment was at its peak, the courier with Sancho Panza's reply to Don Quixote arrived, and that communication too was read aloud; and the Duke could not omit remarking that it was a most excellent and sane letter. The Duchess, however, was anxious to question the page about his visit with Teresa Panza, so she excused herself, and withdrew with the page and her presents; for, besides the acorns, the Governor's wife had sent her a cheese, much to the gratification of the Duchess.
CHAPTER LIII
Of the Troublous End and Termination of Sancho Panza's Government
THE seventh day of Sancho's government was approaching its end. The Governor lay in his bed, resting after all the judgments and proclamations he had made that day upon a fasting stomach. Suddenly he rose in his bed, for he heard the most deafening noise, intermingled with the ringing of churchbells. To this sound was added that of trumpets and drums, and the combination made a din that frightened Sancho almost out of his wits. He flew out of bed, put on a pair of slippers, and rushed into the street, dressed in nothing but his night shirt. He was startled to see the streets crowded with men, carrying torches, and crying: "To arms, Señor Governor, to arms! The enemy is here, and we are lost, unless you come to the rescue with your sword!"
Sancho was lost; he did not know what to do, for swordsmanship was not among his accomplishments. And so he simply asked them whether the enemy could not wait until he had a chance to summon his master Don Quixote of La Mancha, who, he said, knew all about arms.