Of the End of the Notable Adventure of the Officers of the Holy Brotherhood; and of the Great Ferocity of Our Worthy Knight, Don Quixote
THE curate had to argue for some time with the officers of the Brotherhood before he could finally persuade them that it would serve no purpose to arrest Don Quixote, for, being out of his senses, he would in the end be released as a madman. Furthermore, he warned them, Don Quixote would never submit to force.
Sancho Panza and the barber were still quarreling over the pack-saddle and the other booty, and at last the officers agreed to act as mediators, and the differences were adjusted by arbitration. The curate settled for the basin by paying eight reals, and received a receipt for payment in full from the barber.
Don Fernando, in the meantime, extracted a promise from three of the servants of Don Luis to return to Madrid, while the other one agreed to remain and accompany his young master to where Don Fernando wanted him to go. Doña Clara was sparkling with happiness; and Zoraida seemed to feel at home with the Christians, in spite of the noise and tumult she had had to live through during her short stay at the inn.
The landlord did not forget the reckoning for the wine-skins and all the other things whose loss he could attribute to Don Quixote, for he had witnessed the curate's paying off the debt for the barber's helmet. Don Fernando paid all the innkeeper's demands generously, after the curate had decided the claims were just.
But when Don Quixote felt no discord in the air, he betook himself to the presence of Dorothea, knelt before her, and told her how willing and anxious he was to serve her and conquer her giant. And he requested that they make ready to leave. Her reply was simple and direct, for she told him that his will was hers. So Don Quixote ordered his squire to saddle Rocinante and his own donkey; but Sancho only shook his head in sorry fashion.
"Master," he said, "there is more mischief in the village than one hears of." And as his master begged him to speak freely, he burst out: "This lady, who calls herself ruler of the great kingdom of Micomicon, is no more so than my mother; for, if she was what she says, she would not go rubbing noses with one that is here every instant and behind every door."
Though it was merely with her husband, Don Fernando, that she had, as Sancho said, rubbed noses, the crimson in her royal blood came to the surface, and her face turned as red as a beet. Sancho, fearing that the Princess was a courtesan, wanted to save his master the two years' journey to Micomicon, if at the end of it it should turn out that another one than Don Quixote or himself should reap the fruits of their labor.
It is impossible to describe the terrible wrath of the knight when he heard the Princess thus slandered. His indignation and fury knew no bounds. He began to stammer and stutter, inarticulate with rage, until Sancho was scared out of his wits, afraid of being cut open by his raving master's sword. He was just about to turn his back on his master and disappear till the storm had passed, when Dorothea came to his rescue. She suggested that Sancho's strange behavior could only be ascribed to one thing: enchantment. How else could he have seen such diabolical things as he described, how could he have been made to bear false witness against her, and how could he have spoken words so offensive to her modesty? Knowing the heart of Sancho, Don Quixote at once thought her explanation a most ingenious one, for what else could have put into Sancho's head such disrespect for a royal personage? Don Fernando, too, pleaded in Sancho's behalf; and Sancho meekly stumbled to his knees before his master, and kissed his hand frantically, begging him for forgiveness. Whereupon our knight errant with many gestures pardoned and blessed him.
"Now, Sancho, my son," he said, "thou wilt be convinced of the truth of what I have many a time told thee, that everything in this castle is done by means of enchantment."