Boldly the knight went forward and took position in the middle of the road.
"Devilish and unnatural beings!" he cried in a loud voice, "release instantly the high-born princess whom you are carrying off by force in this coach, else prepare to meet a speedy death as the just punishment of your evil deeds!"
The mules came to a standstill, their ears erect with astonishment at such a figure, and the friars gaped in wonder. At last they recovered sufficiently to declare that they were traveling quite by themselves, and had no knowledge of the identity of the travelers following behind them.
To their meek reply Don Quixote paid no heed, but bellowed forth furiously: "No soft words with me! I know you, you lying rabble!" And with his spurs in Rocinante and his lance lifted he rode against the two friars like a whirlwind, so that if one of them had not quickly thrust himself off his mule, he would certainly have been torn to shreds. The other one saved his skin by setting off across the country at a speed rivaling our hero's charge.
At this stage Sancho Panza began to realize the full extent of his position as squire to a successful knight. Over by the roadside he saw the first friar lying breathless on the ground as a result of his jumping off his mule in such amazing hurry. He proceeded to strip off the friar's gown, using as a moral for doing this his own thoughts on the subject. He reasoned that if he could not share in the honors of battle, he at least ought to share in the spoils.
He was intercepted by some of the men attending the carriage. Unfortunately, they were serious-minded men, and they failed to see the joke. Sancho Panza gave them his views on etiquette pertaining to such matters as these; but it would have been much better for him had he not, for the men set upon him with great fury, beating and kicking him until he was insensible. They left him lying on the ground and then helped the pale and trembling friar to mount his mule. As soon as he was in the saddle, he hastened to join his companion, and the two of them continued their journey, making more crosses than they would if the devil had pursued them.
In the meantime Don Quixote had been trying to persuade the fair occupant of the coach to return to El Toboso that she herself might relate to his beloved Dulcinea the strange adventure from which he had delivered her.
A Biscayan gentleman, who was one of her attendants and rode a hired mule, took offense at his insistence to bother her, and a fight was soon in progress. The Biscayan had no shield, so he snatched a cushion from the carriage and used it to defend himself. The engagement was a most heated one, and Don Quixote lost a piece of his ear early in the combat. This enraged him beyond words; he charged his adversary with such tremendous force and fury that he began to bleed from his mouth, his nose, and his ears. Had the Biscayan not embraced the neck of his mount, he would have been spilled on the ground immediately. It remained for his mule to complete the damage, and when the animal suddenly set off across the plain in great fright, the rider plunged headlong to the ground.
Seeing this, Don Quixote hastened to the man's side and bade him surrender, at the penalty of having his head cut off. Absolutely bewildered, the gentleman from Biscay could say nothing; and had it not been for the ladies in the coach who interceded with prayers for his life, the Biscayan might have been beheaded right then and there. Don Quixote finally agreed to spare his opponent's life on one condition: that he present himself before the matchless Lady Dulcinea in the village of El Toboso, and it would be for her to determine his punishment. The ladies having promised that their protector should do anything and everything that might be asked of him, our hero from La Mancha said that he would harm the gentleman no more.