The Don pranced on one side of the litter, and I trotted on the other, for the sake of conversing with Donna Lucia on the road. We began, or rather, I began to discourse with her, for young Miras took so little part in the conversation, that he seldom went beyond a monosyllable, contenting himself with showing off his elegant person on horse-back to the best advantage. Knowing Don Antonio to be no great wit, I should have been a greater simpleton than he, had I not availed myself of so favourable an opportunity. Lucia asked me “if I intended to make a long stay at Saragossa.” “That will depend on the pleasure in store for me at that place,” replied I: “should my wishes be realized, I shall remain there a considerable time.” A tender glance with which I accompanied these words, spoke volumes. Lucia understood my meaning, and blushed deeply; but her eyes informed me that she felt not offended, and I was well pleased that I had hazarded this declaration, since it had not proved disagreeable to her, nor excited the jealousy of Miras, to whom it was a complete enigma.
I was somewhat surprised that so young and lovely a person as Lucia, should travel above a league from Saragossa, with a retinue consisting only of a duenna, one lackey and a muleteer. I had yet to know the privileges of widows in that country, where they enjoy unrestricted freedom. Travelling with so feeble an escort they frequently expose themselves to unexpected and unpleasant rencontres. Thus Donna Lucia, though accompanied by two cavaliers and her own attendants, was somewhat alarmed at a trifling adventure that befel us on our journey. We were already half way to Saragossa, when we perceived at a distance a most beautiful hunter, whose speed was equal to that of Bayarte or Brigliador,[B] and who, galloping towards us, raised such a cloud of dust that we could not at first distinguish who was the cavalier who rode him; but no sooner could we discern him, than I fancied I saw the furious Rolando before me, such fierceness was in his looks.
[B] The names of two chargers famous in ancient romance; the former belonged to Reynaldos de Montalvan, and the latter to Orlando Furioso.—See the Octavo Edition of “Don Quixote, translated by Jarvis,” vol. 2, page 329. Trans.
When he came up within ten or twelve paces of us, he stopped short to look at me. My foreign dress attracted his attention, and he seemed still more surprised at the familiar manner in which I was conversing with the fair widow. He was himself one of this lady’s suitors, and flattered himself with great hopes of winning her, relying upon the opinion he imagined all the world must have of his bravery, to ensure him success over all his rivals. Seeing then Don Antonio on one side and me on the other, he rode most furiously between Miras and the litter, so that he almost overturned the one and dismounted the other. The lady was much alarmed at this insolent action, and told this bully in a rage, that the road was wide enough to allow of his passing, without presuming to insult persons who deserved more respect. He apologized to Lucia in a tone and manner more insolent than the action itself.
Miras, at the first impulse of his resentment, clapped his hands upon his pistol, but whether from the fear of missing his aim, or from an excessive respect towards his mistress, he did not venture further in an engagement, for which, by the bye, he felt no great inclination. I pitied his awkward situation, and felt much disposed to take up his quarrel, thinking that this swaggerer was but a braggadocio. I reflected, however, that I might find myself mistaken; and seeing that the party most interested was not very forward in resenting the affront, I was wise enough to refrain from taking up his cudgels. All that I could do for him was, to request him to come to my side, and yield my place to him, which offer he accepted willingly, quite indifferent as to Lucia’s opinion of his courage in being obliged thus to quit his post. Our blustering companion called himself Don Lucio de Ribera. He had been informed that the beautiful widow had slept at the monastery the preceding night, and intended to return this day. Accordingly he rode from the city to meet her, and offer his services to escort her home.
No sooner did this fellow perceive that Don Antonio had resigned his post, instead of thinking of maintaining it, than he took immediate possession of it himself, and prepared to converse with the lady, who, however, deceived his expectation; for, to mortify him, she answered not a word to all he had to say. She deigned not even to look at him, keeping her eyes and attention fixed on Miras and me. In this manner we arrived at Saragossa, and conducted Donna Lucia to her house, where she thanked me most politely for my attentions, adding, that she hoped that the city had sufficient charms to detain me some time. She observed but little ceremony towards the other two gentlemen, acknowledging their civility with a slight bow only. I took no notice of the haughty Don Lucio in parting, but paid a thousand compliments to Don Antonio, which so much pleased him, that he insisted on accompanying me to the Angel, a famous inn at the entrance of the town, and whither I had desired my luggage to be conveyed. Here Miras took his leave of me, in terms which convinced me that so far from suspecting me for a rival, he believed me to be one of his best friends.
I found my servant and muleteer at the inn, where they had engaged a very commodious apartment for me, in which I supped alone. The landlord, who was one of those inveterate jesters who abound with witticisms and puns, joined me soon after, thinking I should be vastly entertained with his company. He began the conversation by telling me all that was going on in the town, the privileges of which he much extolled, not forgetting to praise the spirit with which the inhabitants maintained those privileges. I was not averse to listening to him, for in the midst of a thousand impertinences, a most excellent stroke of wit would occasionally escape him, as is often the case with babblers like him. When I had finished my supper, however, he ceased worrying me any longer with his nonsense, made his bow, and was about to retire. Stop friend, said I, be kind enough to desire a tailor to call upon me to-morrow morning; I have some work to give him. The entrusting mine host with this commission, furnished him with a new topic for conversation, and he took occasion to enlarge upon the knavery of tailors in general, abusing them as other people usually do. Nevertheless, after having railed at them most vehemently as a body, he finished by assuring me, that he knew one who knew how to behave himself to his customers, without cabbaging an inch of their cloth, and who, he doubted not, would please me.
He was as good as his word; for as soon as I was up the next morning, he introduced a tailor, who appeared to be by no means extravagant, and who understood his business well. I gave orders for a Spanish habit, in the fashion I wished it to be made, and he promised he would send it home in three days, made in so fashionable a style as could not fail to attract the admiration of every one. In the mean time, I wore the Italian suit I had purchased at Florence, in which I cut a tolerable good figure on the Corso, which is the place of resort for all the fashionables at Saragossa, and where I was at least not ashamed to appear as one of Donna Lucia’s suitors; but as soon as I made my appearance amongst them in my new dress, I completely eclipsed them all, not only from its elegance, but from the fine jewels with which I thought proper to deck myself out. I was soon looked upon as the favoured lover of the lady, whose attention I certainly attracted; for, whether I accompanied her in her walks, or chanced to pass under her balcony, she evidently distinguished me in preference to all my rivals. The haughty Don Lucio could not conceal his envy of my happiness, and darted the most furious looks at me. With the others I lived on tolerable good terms, especially with Miras, who scarcely ever left me, and procured me all the pleasure he could, by introducing me into the most distinguished families in the city.
Thus I found myself esteemed and honoured at Saragossa, where I was as much in Lucia’s favour as I had been in that of my Florence widow, when one morning, my servant announced to me, that there was a gentleman at my chamber-door who wanted to speak to me. Being still in bed, and thinking that it must be one of Don Antonio’s friends, I desired that he might be admitted, and was not a little surprised at sight of the person who had thus announced himself, who was a huge ugly looking fellow whom I had never seen before. He wore mustachios turned up, a high crowned hat which nearly reached the ceiling, and a very long sword, the hilt of which he was very careful in holding up, that it might not dangle on the floor; thus, shrugging up his shoulders, he walked with so heavy a foot, that the chamber shook at every step he took.
You will naturally expect that after so grand an entrance, he would address himself to me in a corresponding style; but no such thing; he was content to strut up and down my chamber, eyeing me from time to time in a most threatening manner. I soon grew tired of this dumb scene, so that jumping up on a sudden, I seized my pistols, and demanded what business he had there. This action seemed to bring him to his senses. “Do you know,” said he, with an agitated voice, “the brave Don Lucio de Ribera, the flower and boast of Arragon?” I replied, “that I knew him merely by sight, and that it was but of little consequence whether I knew him or not.” “I am come,” continued he, presenting me a letter, “to find you on his behalf. This letter will explain the rest.” I took the note very calmly, for I perceived plainly that the bearer was more frightened than myself, and having opened it, read these words: