Don Quixote, in short, had decided to go mad, in emulation of other bold knights, such as Roland and Amadis—a decision that extracted from Sancho Panza some muttered words to the effect that any one who could mistake a barber's basin for a gold helmet could not go much madder. And then Don Quixote explained to what sufferings, sorrow, penance, and folly he would subject himself; and quite unintentionally he revealed to Sancho the real identity of his famous Lady Dulcinea, whom Sancho had always thought a princess. Now the good squire learned to his dismay that the famous Dulcinea was no other than Lorenzo Corchuelo's daughter, Aldonza Lorenzo, a lady with manners like a man, and a man's ability to handle a crowbar easily.
When Don Quixote had determined upon his penance in the wilderness, all for the sake of Dulcinea, he thought it would be a good idea to make known to her the sacrifices and sufferings he was about to undergo for her sake. Therefore he granted his squire the requested permission to return to his family, and bade him speed homeward on Rocinante, so that he himself, horseless, might undergo an even greater penance. He sent a letter by Sancho to his fair one, relating to her the pain of his wounded heart; a pain enhanced by self-inflicted absence and to be ended only by death, to satisfy her cruelty.
Sancho's covetousness did not permit his master to forget the three promised ass-colts; so Don Quixote wrote an order to his niece in the notebook of the ill-starred Cardenio.
Before they parted, Don Quixote asked Sancho to stay and see some of the insanities he meant to perform in his absence. He then stripped to the skin and went through some remarkable capers before his squire. This exhibition nearly brought tears to Sancho's eyes, and he besought him to stop. And when he expressed a fear that he would not be able to find his way back, Don Quixote assured him that he would remain in that very spot, or thereabouts, until the squire returned from El Toboso; and he told him also to cut some branches and strew them in his path. Furthermore he said he would be on the lookout for him from the peak of the highest cliff.
When Sancho finally took leave of his master, he felt that he could swear with unprotesting conscience that his beloved master was quite mad.
CHAPTER XXVI
In Which Are Continued the Refinements Wherewith Don Quixote Played the Part of a Lover in the Sierra Morena
SOON after Sancho had gone, Don Quixote came to the conclusion that the exercises he was putting himself through were much too hard and troublesome. So he decided to change them, and instead of imitating Roland and his fury, he turned to the more melancholy Amadis, whose madness was of a much milder form and needed a less strenuous outlet. But to imitate Amadis, he had to have a rosary, and he had none. For a moment he was in a quandary; but a miracle gave him the inspiration to use the tail of his shirt—which was too long anyhow—and tearing off a long piece, on which he made eleven knots, he repeated quantities of credos and ave-marias on it, there in the wilderness. His love would at times drive him to write verses to his cruel and beloved one on the bark of the trees, all the while he would make moaning sounds of lovesickness. Again he would go about sighing, singing, calling to the nymphs and fauns and satyrs, and, of course, looking for herbs to nourish himself with.
But while Don Quixote exiled himself in the wilds, his servant Sancho Panza was making for El Toboso. On the second day he found himself at the inn at which the incident of his blanket journey had taken place. The smell of food reminded him that it was dinner time; yet he hesitated about entering. As he was standing there, along came two men; and one of them was heard to say: "Is not that Sancho Panza?" "So it is," said the other one; and it turned out to be the curate and the barber of Don Quixote's own village.