The Children's Hour, v 5. Stories From Seven Old Favorites

by Eva March Tappan

At last, Sancho observed the signal of the white flag, and calling out to the rest, "Hold," cried he, "my master calls to us; I will he hanged if he has not got the better of the lions." At this they all faced about, and perceived Don Quixote flourishing his ensign; whereupon recovering a little from their fright, they little by little came back, till they could plainly distinguish Don Quixote's voice; and then they came up to the wagon. As soon as they were got near it, "Come on, friend," said he to the carter; "put to thy mules again, and pursue thy journey; and, Sancho, do you give him two gold crowns for the lion-keeper and himself, to make them amends for the time I have detained them."—"Ay, that I will with all my heart," quoth Sancho; "but what is become of the lions? Are they dead or alive?" Then the keeper very formally related the whole action, not failing to exaggerate, to the best of his skill, Don Quixote's courage; how at his sight alone the lion was so terrified, that he neither would nor durst quit his stronghold, though for that end his cage door was kept open for a considerable time; and how upon his remonstrating to the knight, who would have had the lion forced out, that it was presuming too much upon Heaven, he had permitted, though with great reluctancy, that the lion should be shut up again. "Well, Sancho," said Don Quixote to his squire, "what dost thou think of this? Can enchantment prevail over true fortitude? No, these magicians may perhaps rob me of success, but of fortitude and courage it would be impossible."

Sancho gave the wagoner and the keeper the two pieces. The first harnessed his mules, and the last thanked Don Quixote for his bounty, and promised to acquaint the king himself with his heroic action when he came to court. "Well," said Don Quixote, "if his majesty should chance to inquire who did this thing, tell him it was the Knight of the Lions; a name I intend henceforth to take up, in lieu of that which I hitherto assumed, of the Knight of the Doleful Countenance; in which proceeding I do but conform to the ancient custom of knights-errant, who changed their names as often as they pleased, or as it suited with their advantage."

THE RIDE ON THE WOODEN HORSE

By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

[An enchanter has revenged himself upon some ladies by putting heavy beards upon their faces. Don Quixote has been persuaded that the beards will vanish if he will take a journey of three thousand leagues on a wooden horse.]

"Blind thy eyes, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and get up. Sure he that sends so far for us can have no design to deceive us! since it would never be to his credit to delude those that rely on his word; and, though the success should be contrary to our desires, still, it is not in the power of malice to eclipse the glory of so brave an attempt."—"To horse, then, sir," cried Sancho. "The beards and tears of these poor gentlewomen are sticking in my heart. And I shall not eat a bit to do me good till I see them as smooth as before. Mount, then, I say, and blindfold yourself first; for, if I must ride behind, it is a plain case you must get up before me."—"That is right," said Don Quixote; and, with that, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he gave it to the Disconsolate Lady to hoodwink him. She did so; but presently after, uncovering himself, "If I remember right," said he, "we read in Virgil of the Trojan Palladium, that wooden horse which the Greeks offered the goddess Pallas, full of armed knights who afterwards proved the total ruin of Troy. It were prudent, therefore, before we get up, to see what Clavileño has within him."—"You need not," said the Disconsolate Lady; "I dare engage that Malambruno would not countenance any base or treacherous practice. Mount, Don Quixote, without fear; whatever accident befalls you, I dare answer for." Upon this, Don Quixote mounted, without any reply, imagining that anything said concerning his security would be a reflection on his valor. He then began to try the pin, which was easily turned; and as he sat, with his long legs stretched at length without stirrups, he looked like one of those antique figures in a Roman triumph, painted or woven in Flemish arras.

Sancho, very leisurely and unwillingly, was made to climb up; and, fixing himself as well as he could on the crupper, felt it somewhat hard and uneasy. With that, looking on the duke, "Good my lord," quoth he, "will you lend me something to clap under me; some pillow from the page's bed, or the duchess's cushion of state, or anything; for this horse's crupper seems rather marble than wood."—"It is needless," said Trifaldi; "for Clavileño will bear no kind of furniture upon him; so that, for your greater ease, you had best sit sideways, like a woman." Sancho did so; and after he had taken his leave they bound a cloth over his eyes; but presently after, uncovering them, with a pitiful look on the spectators, he prayed them with tears in his eyes to help him in this peril with two Paternosters and two Ave Marias, as they would expect the like charity themselves in such a condition!—"What! you rascal," said Don Quixote, "do you think yourself at the gallows, and at the point of death, that you hold forth in such a piteous strain? Dastardly wretch without a soul, dost thou not know that the fair Magalona once sat in thy place, and alighted from thence, not into the grave, but into the throne of France, if there is truth in history? And do not I sit by thee, that I may vie with the valorous Peter, and press the seat that was once pressed by him? Come, blindfold thyself, poor spiritless animal, and let me not hear thee betray the least symptom of fear, at least not in my presence."—"Well," quoth Sancho, "let them bind me; but, if you will not let one say his prayers nor be prayed for, it is no marvel one should fear that we may have a legion of imps about us to deal with us, as at Peralvillo."

Now, both being hoodwinked, and Don Quixote perceiving everything ready, be began to turn the pin; and no sooner had he set his hand to it than the waitingwomen and all the company set up their throats, calling out, "Speed you well, valorous knight; Heaven be your guide, undaunted squire! Now, now, you fly aloft, cutting the air more swiftly than an arrow, while the gazing world wonders at your course! Sit fast, courageous Sancho! you do not sit steady; have a care of falling; for your fall would be greater than the aspiring youth's that sought to guide the chariot of the sun-god, his father." All this Sancho heard, and, girting his arms fast about his master, "Sir," quoth he, "why do they say we are so high, since we can hear their voices? Truly I hear them so plainly that one would think they were talking close by us."—"Never mind that," answered Don Quixote; "for in these extraordinary kinds of flight you can hear and see what you wish a thousand leagues off. But do not hold me so hard, for you will make me tumble off. I know not what makes thee tremble so, for I dare swear I never rode easier in all my life; our horse goes as if he did not move at all. Take courage, then; for the affair is in a good way, and we have the wind astern."—"I think so, too," quoth Sancho; "for I feel the wind puff as briskly here as if a thousand pairs of bellows were blowing on me at my back." Sancho was not in the wrong; for two or three pairs of bellows were indeed giving air; so well had the plot of this adventure been laid by the duke, the duchess, and their steward, that nothing was wanting to perfect it.

Don Quixote at last feeling the wind, "Sure," said he, "we must be risen to the second region of the air, where are engendered the hail and snow; thunder, lightning, and thunderbolts are produced in the third region; so that, if we mount at this rate, we shall be in the region of fire presently; and I do not know how to manage this pin, so as to avoid being scorched." At the same time some flax, easy to light and to quench at a distance, was clapped to the end of a long stick, and made their faces hot; and the heat affecting Sancho, he cried, "May I be hanged, if we be not come to this fire region or very near it; for the half of my beard is singed already. I have a mind to peep out and see whereabouts we are."—"By no means," answered Don Quixote, "but remember the true story of Doctor Torralva, whom the devil carried to Rome hoodwinked, and, bestriding a reed, in twelve hours' time setting him down in the tower of Nona, in one of the streets of that city. There he saw the dreadful tumult, assault, and death of Bourdon; and, the next morning, he found himself back in Madrid, where he related the story. Who said, as he went through the air, the devil bade him open his eyes, which he did, and then found himself as it seemed so near the moon that he could touch him with his finger; but durst not look towards the earth, lest his brains should turn. So, Sancho, we need not unveil our eyes, but trust to him that has charge of us, and fear nothing, for perhaps we only mount high, to come straight down upon the kingdom of Candaya, as a hawk or falcon falls upon a heron, to seize it more strongly from a height; for, though it appears to us not half an hour since we left the garden, we have, nevertheless, traveled over a vast tract."—"I know nothing of the matter," replied Sancho; "but of this I am very certain, that, if the Lady Magallanes, or Magalona, could sit this wooden crupper, she cannot have had very tender flesh."