Night fell as they were talking. It was a very dark night, which helped to make the Duke's plan seem more likely of success. They had all left the tents and gone into the wood, when suddenly it seemed as if the whole space was afire in one blazing red mass of flames; then there came the sound of trumpets, numberless ones it seemed, and of hoofs, as if hordes of horses had passed through the wood, and of drums, and of battle-cries in Moorish. It was one long, tremendous, indescribable confusion. The Duke and the Duchess were seemingly taken aback; Don Quixote did not know what to think or do; and Sancho was absolutely panic-stricken. It was a din so overwhelming that even those who had arranged it were aghast and afraid.
Then there came a sudden lull, and a messenger—dressed like a demon and blowing a horn that sounded a weird and sickly note—appeared before their eyes, apparently in great haste. The Duke called to him and asked him where he was going; and he replied in a coarse voice that he was the Devil and was looking for Don Quixote of La Mancha. He pointed to the on-riding troops, and said that they were enchanters who were bringing the famous Lady Dulcinea del Toboso and the great Frenchman Montesinos on a triumphal car to seek their disenchantment through the only one who could accomplish it, the Knight of the Lions.
On hearing this, Don Quixote said: "If you are the Devil, you ought to know that I am Don Quixote!"
Whereupon the Devil exclaimed in surprise that he had not noticed the knight at all because he was so preoccupied with so many other things that he had almost forgotten what he was there for. Judging the Devil by his remark Sancho decided he was a very honest fellow and a good Christian; otherwise he would not have sworn—as Sancho did—by God and his conscience. After that the squire concluded that even hell had its quota of souls.
The Devil asked Don Quixote to communicate with Montesinos that he might receive instructions as to how to carry out the disenchantment of Lady Dulcinea; and then he turned around his horse and was gone. The whole thing had happened so suddenly that even Don Quixote was perplexed and seemed as if he did not know whether to believe what he had seen and heard. Sancho was dumbfounded and frightened out of his wits.
As Don Quixote made no move to follow the Devil's advice, the Duke turned to him and asked whether he intended to remain where he was. He answered that he would even if all the devils from hell should attack him. Scarcely had he vowed this when he had to gather all his courage in order not to give way to fear, for again there broke out a noise and din that surpassed anything that he had ever heard: shots of cannon and muskets, shouts and screams from all sides, and the terrific sound of all the trumpets, horns, drums, bugles and clarions; and then came the heavy creaking noise of carts, coming through the wood and all brightly lighted with rows of tapers.
It was too much for poor Sancho. He fell fainting on the Duchess' skirt. She ordered her servants to fan him and to throw water in his face, and he regained consciousness just as one of the carts was passing. It was drawn by four oxen, completely covered with black cloth, and attached to each horn was a lighted wax taper. Leading the oxen were two demons with such horrible, frightful faces that Sancho shut his eyes tightly after having got one glance of them. An old, worthy-looking man with a long, snow-white beard sat on a raised seat on the cart; and when he passed Don Quixote he said in a deep voice: "I am the sage Lirgandeo." And the cart continued. Then followed other carts, with other sages, and Sancho's face suddenly lighted up, for he heard sweet music in the distance, and he said to the Duchess: "Señora, where there is music, there can be no mischief."
But Don Quixote would not commit himself, for all he remarked was: "That remains to be seen."