The Story of Don Quixote

by Arvid Paulson; Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra; Clayton Edwards

Just then one of the inhabitants came along, carrying two shields, and without any ceremony he told Sancho in plain language that it was his duty as their governor to lead them into battle. Then he covered him—without giving him a chance to put on anything besides his night-shirt—with the two shields, one in front and the other one behind; pressing them together as tightly as he and another man could manage, they laced them with rope, so that Sancho could neither move a muscle, nor bend a leg. Then they put a lance in his hand and told him to lead them into battle against the enemy, for now they were no longer afraid of the outcome, they said.

"How am I to march, unlucky being that I am," asked Sancho, "when I cannot stir my knee-caps for these boards that are bound so tightly to my body! What you must do is to carry me in your arms, and lay me across or set me upright in some postern, and I shall hold it either with this lance or with my body."

When the men heard the Governor speak thus, one of them was bold enough to suggest that he could not move because he was too frightened; and this angered poor Sancho into a frantic attempt to take a step in the direction of the invading army. But this step was a fatal one, for the Governor fell in his undignified stiffness flat on his back with such a crash that he thought he had broken every bone in his body.

The men now quickly extinguished their torches, and began to step on his shield, slashing their swords over his head, shouting and yelling, and making all the noise they could. Had Sancho not pulled in his head like a tortoise in his shell, he might have fared ill. One man boldly placed himself on Sancho's roof, calling in a mighty voice, now and then filled with an agonized grunt, such directions as these: "Hold the breach there! Shut the gate! Barricade those ladders! Block the streets with feather-beds! Here with your stink-pots of pitch and resin, and kettles of boiling oil!"

All these exclamations put fear in the already hard-pressed and squeezed heart of Sancho Panza, who was wishing where he lay that he had never seen the sight of an island. He was in such an agony that he began to pray to the Lord in Heaven to have mercy on him and let him die, or else let this terrible strife and warfare come to an end.

Heaven must have heard Sancho's prayer, for suddenly he heard cries of: "Victory! Victory! The enemy retreats!" Then some one jerked him by the arm, and told him to stand up and enjoy the victory; and finally some of the bystanders took pity on him, and lifted him up from his vertical position. But Sancho refused to enjoy any victory. All he asked for, he said, was that some one wipe the perspiration from his body, and give him some wine for his parched throat. When they had fulfilled this desire of his, they carried him to his chamber, were they put him to bed. Hardly had they got him to bed before he fainted away, overcome with excitement and governments.

The attendants sprinkled some water in the Governor's face, and he soon came back to life. The first thing he asked was what time it was. They replied it was early morning. He rose without saying a word, dressed himself in haste, and then went out to the stable, where they found him hanging round his Dapple's neck, kissing and embracing him, while tears were streaming down his face. Having swallowed the first flood of tears, the late squire addressed his faithful donkey in the tenderest and most heartrending terms, telling him that he should have stuck by him all the time, and not let himself be carried away by ambitions to become governor of islands.

Sancho then put the pack-saddle on Dapple's back, and mounted—a process of much pain—and from his dear confederate's back he addressed the majordomo and those of his staff who had followed him to the stable. "Make way," he said, "and let me go back to my old freedom; let me go look for my past life, and raise myself up from this present death. I was not born to be a governor or to protect islands or cities from the enemies that choose to attack them. Ploughing and digging, vine-dressing and pruning, are more in my way than defending provinces or kingdoms. Saint Peter is very well in Rome: I mean, each of us is best following the trade he was born to. I would rather have my fill of the simplest pot-luck than be subject to the misery of a meddling doctor who kills me with hunger; and I would rather lie in summer under the shade of an oak, and in winter wrap myself in a double sheepskin jacket in freedom, than to go to bed between Holland sheets and dress in sables under the restraint of a government. God be with your Worships! Tell my lord, the Duke, that naked was I born, naked I find myself, I neither lose nor gain: I mean that without a farthing I came into this government, and without a farthing I go out of it—very different from the way governors commonly leave other islands. Stand aside and let me go. I have to plaster myself, for I believe every one of my ribs is crushed, thanks to the enemies that have been trampling over me to-night."

Here the doctor offered to give the retiring governor a draught that would cure him of all pain. He also promised Sancho if he would stay he would behave better in the future, and give him as much to eat as he desired. But Sancho was not at a loss for an answer this time.

"You spoke late," said he. "I should as soon turn Turk as stay any longer. Those jokes will not pass a second time. By the Lord, I should as soon remain in this government, or take another one, even if it was offered me between two plates, as fly to heaven without wings. I am of the breed of Panzas, and they are every one of them obstinate, and if they once say odds, odds it must be, no matter if it is evens, in spite of all the world. Here in this stable I leave the ant's wings that lifted me up into the air for the swifts and other birds to eat them, and let us take to the level ground and our feet once more; and if they are not shod in pinked shoes of cordovan, they shall not want for rough sandals of hemp. Every ewe to her like and let no one stretch his leg beyond the length of the sheet. And now let me pass, for it is growing late with me."