All this time the sun was rising in the sky, and when about the hour of noon it began to beat from a naked heaven whose face was brass, upon the unsheltered plain, this wilderness grew so fierce and garish as hardly to be borne. Mile upon mile I did assay and stoutly overcame; but horizon succeeded to horizon, each so bright and quivering with heat that the eye was afeared to meet it, each so bare, so flat, and so like the one that was before, glaring sand on every side and torrid fire everywhere, with never a prospect of shelter or abode, and so small a hope of change, that at last I began to shrink from the path I was determined on, and was even led to think this must be the high road to eternity.
Even before noon my mouth was parched like a dust-pit. Thirst shrivelled my tongue, but no spring was there to quench it; nor was there a house to be seen. Indeed, the sun was become almost as cruel as he was formerly gentle, sitting in heaven like a ball of fire, and seeming to take pleasure from his pitiless descent on the coarse suit of a sanguine colour of one Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas. And to increase the evil of my case my person was now taken with a pestilence of flies. These vindictive creatures bit my face and neck so sharply that the vexation of my person spread into my mind; whereon it rose to such a height against them as to provoke as round a fume of swearing as that of any rapscallion of the towns. Perforce I had to check this froward disposition in myself; for it is intolerable in one who boasts that his fortitude shall overcome the world, to find himself put out of countenance by the meanest insect in it.
It is no part of valour for a man to break and flee before an enemy, but the sun was now so much against me that I was fain to seek a refuge from him. Indeed, necessity was like to drive me to it all too soon, for there was already a kind of sickness creeping in my brain. So a little in the afternoon I saw through the fiery haze that trembled above the plain, a piece of scrub that promised a retreat. I turned my horse towards it with more alacrity than credit, though I am sure that had Cæsar himself been mounted that afternoon on my patient Babieca he must have acted even as did I, however the stoutness of his heart had cried out on the weakness of his nature.
I led Babieca into as much shade as I could devise, tied him to a bush, and crawled under it with my unlucky brains. While taking refuge here I had a fall in fortune. You will conceive, O admirable reader! that the sun, this false friend in whom I had reposed my trust, having dealt with me in this false spirit, there was no longer that poetry in my temper with which I had begun my journey. I was beset with doubts. If a face so bright, so open, so intelligible could hide such malice, where was the candour of the world? By this pertinent reflection my thoughts were carried to the poor woman who had also shared my trust. Perchance it was not the part of wisdom to bestow the tenth portion of my inheritance upon a beggar in the road. Sorely considering this aspect of the case I took forth my pouch, and pouring my little means into my hand, not without a pang that one palm could hold it all, behold! in lieu of nine crowns I discovered that I had but eight.
Now, I was never afraid to believe that if a man hold a low opinion of his kind, and looks upon them in a spirit of askance, such a one is fit for no nice company, since he merits no more consideration than he is willing to bestow. But to find that my trust had been abused so wickedly gravelled me altogether. I could have wept for the petty trick and cried out upon the world. Nor would I have you to consider that it was a piece of lucre that led me to this mind. It was the plausibility, the cold ingratitude that pricked me like a dagger. I had hoped to carry upon my pilgrimage that good faith towards my fellows that my noble father had bade me entertain. It was to be my solace and my watchword. As I rode forth the zephyrs of the morning were to breathe it in my ears; at night I was to lie down in its security underneath the stars. “Man is a thing so excellent that this peerless world was made for his demesne.” Thus Don Ygnacio, and he was threescore years and seven when he perished of the stone. Was the seed of that true caballero to renounce a wisdom so mature because of a blow received by misadventure?
Some hours I lay in security, for I was in mortal fear of the ball of fire above my head. By a good chance I had placed a luncheon of rye bread and a piece of cheese made of goat’s milk in my wallet. This I munched with discretion, for there was never a house to be seen, and this uninhabited plain appeared to stretch many miles. There was no spring at which to allay my thirst, and during long hours I was tormented dreadfully. My tongue and throat were blistered by the heat that arose from the burning sand. Bitterly did I lament that I had not had the wisdom to strap a skin of water to my saddle.
By the time the fury of the sun had grown somewhat less my head had recovered of its stroke, and I got upon my road. Nor was it in any bitterness of spirit that I went, for I had taken a solace from my meditations which reconciled me to the rape of my patrimony. It should call for more than a single mischance to break my faith in my brothers of the mountains and my cousins of the plains. Many a weary mile did I make ere the sun went down and a little pity for the wayfarer entered the firmament. My eyes did ache with the glare of the burning yellow ground; my body was sorely painful with the fatigues of travel; and when at last the sun was gone and the night and its stars appeared I gazed anxiously on every hand for the sign of some habitation to which I might commit my distress. But there was never a poor inn nor a swineherd’s hut to be seen in all this wilderness.
The night found me greatly doubtful of my way. I kept Babieca’s head as fair to the south as I could reckon, but in the faint light of the stars a true course was difficult to point. Nor was it without its dangers, for the road was of a wretched nature. It was strewn with sharp-pointed boulders, sand, stunted grasses, and was full of holes. Whither it led I did not know. But I had been told, or perhaps had dreamt, that many famous cities lay before me buried in the mists of night. They were marked in my imagination as the homes of every splendid enterprise, of every fortunate endeavour; and beyond all else, of the fairest peoples of the fairest countries of the world.
It was very dark, but soon I saw these cities stretching out before me in the night. They were truly delectable to see; fair places all, with the morning beams upon a crowd of palaces, castles of a noble situation, large, white, and lofty churches built of stone, and a company of ships. I saw the sea, which was only known to me by rumour, that broad highway to the Indies and other foreign lands where fame and riches wait on boldness and can be picked like acorns from beneath the trees. I saw the waves, a dark yet radiant azure, which were said to ride a thousand galleons, filled with men of valour. I could see their friends upon the beach waving their farewells. And I know not what emotion then swept over me, for no sooner did I observe the people in this fantasy than I remembered I had not a friend in all the world save Babieca, patient ambler and poor mountain creature that he was, and he was dumb like the stones upon the road. I felt the tears rising in my heart, and though I fought against them they were stubborn rebels not easy to suppress. For I cannot say with what intensity I longed at this dark hour for one glance from the eyes of him who was alive but a week ago.
My way was very lonely then, having strayed remote into a distant country. And very lonely was my heart; yet to those who will overpass my boldness I will confide it faltered not in resolution and therefore was not cold. For through all the long season of his adversity my father had maintained: “Courage is a living fire in a winter’s night.” Thus when the evening winds arose and chilled my body I pressed on, though I knew not whither, and had no thought of return. Hours came and hours went, and I had a great despair of sanctuary for myself and willing beast; and I had such a languor that it was no virtue of my own that held the reins. My belly was as bare as was this wilderness, yet my heart was fixed against complaint. I pressed forward stubbornly until at last Babieca began to stumble at every yard he took.