"By the life of my father," quoth Sancho, after hearing the letter, "it is the finest thing I ever heard. How choicely your worship expresses whatever you please! and how well you close all with 'the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure!' Verily, there is nothing but what you know." "The profession which I have embraced," answered Don Quixote, "requires a knowledge of everything." "Well, then," said Sancho, "pray put on the other side the order for the three ass-colts, and sign it very plain, that people may know your hand at first sight." "With all my heart," said the knight; and having written it, he read as follows:—
"Dear niece,—at sight of this, my first bill of ass-colts, give order that three out of the five I left at home in your custody be delivered to Sancho Panza, my squire; which three colts I order to be delivered and paid for the like number received of him here in tale; and this, with his acquittance, shall be your discharge. Done in the heart of the Sierra Morena, the twenty-second of August, this present year——"
"It is mighty well," said Sancho; "now you have only to sign it." "It wants no signing," said Don Quixote; "I need only put my cipher to it, which is the same thing, and is sufficient, not only for three, but for three hundred asses." "I rely upon your worship," answered Sancho; "let me go and saddle Rozinante, and prepare to give me your blessing; for I intend to depart immediately, without staying to see the frolics you are about to commit; and I will tell quite enough to satisfy her. But in the mean time, setting that aside, what has your worship to eat until my return? Are you to go upon the highway, to rob the shepherds, like Cardenio?" "Trouble not yourself about that," answered Don Quixote; "for were I otherwise provided, I should eat nothing but the herbs and fruits which here grow wild: for abstinence and other austerities are essential in this affair." "Now I think of it, sir," said Sancho, "how shall I be able to find my way back again to this bye-place?" "Observe and mark well the spot, and I will endeavour to remain near it," said Don Quixote; "and will, moreover, ascend some of the highest ridges to discover thee upon thy return. But the surest way not to miss me, or lose thyself, will be to cut down some of the broom that abounds here, and scatter it here and there, on thy way to the plain, to serve as marks and tokens to guide thee on thy return, in imitation of Theseus's clue to the labyrinth."
Sancho Panza followed this counsel; and having provided himself with branches, he begged his master's blessing, and, not without many tears on both sides, took his leave of him; and mounting upon Rozinante, with an especial charge from Don Quixote to regard him as he would his own proper person, he rode towards the plain, strewing the boughs at intervals, as his master had directed him.
CHAPTER XV.
Of what happened to Don Quixote's Squire, with the famous device of the Curate and the Barber.
The history recounting what the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure did when he found himself alone, informs us that, having performed many strange antics after Sancho's departure, he mounted the top of a high rock, and began to deliberate on a subject that he had often considered before, without coming to any resolution; that was, which was the best and most proper model for his imitation, Orlando in his furious fits, or Amadis in his melancholy moods; and thus he argued with himself: "If Orlando was as valiant a knight as he is allowed to have been, where is the wonder? since, in fact, he was enchanted, and could only be slain by having a needle thrust into the sole of his foot; therefore he always wore shoes of iron. But setting aside his valour, let us consider his madness; and if he was convinced of his lady's cruelty, it was no wonder he ran mad. But how can I imitate him in his frenzy without a similar cause? I should do my Dulcinea manifest wrong if I should be seized with the same species of frenzy as that of Orlando Furioso. On the other side, I see that Amadis de Gaul, finding himself disdained by his Lady Oriana, only retired to the poor rock, accompanied by a hermit, and there wept abundantly until Heaven succoured him in his great tribulation. All honour, then, to the memory of Amadis! and let him be the model of Don Quixote de la Mancha, of whom shall be said, that if he did not achieve great things, he at least died in attempting them; and though neither rejected nor disdained by my Dulcinea, it is sufficient that I am absent from her. Now to the work; come to my memory, ye deeds of Amadis, and instruct me in the task of imitation!" He thus passed the time, and in writing and graving on the barks of trees many verses of a plaintive kind, or in praise of his Dulcinea. Among those afterwards discovered, only the following were entire and legible:
I.
Ye lofty trees, with spreading arms,
The pride and shelter of the plain;
Ye humbler shrubs and flowery charms,
Which here in springing glory reign!
If my complaints may pity move,
Hear the sad story of my love!
While with me here you pass your hours,
Should you grow faded with my cares,
I'll bribe you with refreshing showers;
You shall be watered with my tears.
Distant, though present in idea,
I mourn my absent Dulcinea
Del Toboso.