"I say, then," continued Cardenio, "that, being all assembled in the hall, the priest entered, and having taken them both by the hand, in order to perform what is necessary on such occasions, when he came to these words, 'Will you, Sigñora Lucinda, take Sigñor Don Fernando, who is here present, for your lawful husband, as our holy mother the Church commands?' I thrust out my head and neck through the tapestry, and with attentive ears and distracted soul awaited Lucinda's reply, as the sentence of my death, or the confirmation of my life. Oh, that I had then dared to venture forth, and to have cried aloud—'Ah, Lucinda, Lucinda! Remember that you are mine, and cannot belong to another.' Ah, fool that I am! Now I am absent, I can say what I ought to have said, but did not! Now that I have suffered myself to be robbed of my soul's treasure I am cursing the thief, on whom I might have revenged myself, if I had been then as prompt to act as I am now to complain! I was then a coward and a fool; no wonder therefore if I now die ashamed, repentant, and mad.
"The priest stood expecting Lucinda's answer, who paused for a long time; and when I thought she would draw forth the dagger in defence of her honour, or make some declaration which might redound to my advantage, I heard her say in a low and faint voice, 'I will.' Don Fernando said the same, and the ring being put on, they remained tied in an indissoluble band. The bridegroom approached to embrace his bride; and she, laying her hand on her heart, fainted in the arms of her mother. Imagine my condition after that fatal Yes, by which my hopes were frustrated, Lucinda's vows and promises broken, and I for ever deprived of all chance of happiness. On Lucinda's fainting, all were in confusion; and her mother, unlacing her bosom to give her air, discovered in it a folded paper, which Don Fernando instantly seized, and read it by the light of one of the flambeaux; after which, he sat himself down in a chair, apparently full of thought, and without attending to the exertions made to recover his bride.
"During this general consternation I departed, indifferent whether I was seen or not. I quitted the house, and returning to the place where I had left the mule, I mounted and rode out of the town, not daring to stop, or even to look behind me; and when I found myself alone on the plain, concealed by the darkness of the night, the silence inviting my lamentations, I gave vent to a thousand execrations on Lucinda and Don Fernando, as if that, alas, could afford me satisfaction for the wrongs I had sustained. I called her cruel, false, and ungrateful; and above all, mercenary, since the wealth of my enemy had seduced her affections from me. But amidst all these reproaches I sought to find excuses for her submission to parents whom she had ever been accustomed implicitly to obey; especially as they offered her a husband with such powerful attractions. Then again I considered that she need not have been ashamed of avowing her engagement to me, since, had it not been for Don Fernando's proposals, her parents could not have desired a more suitable connexion; and I thought how easily she could have declared herself mine, when on the point of giving her hand to my rival. In fine, I concluded that her love had been less than her ambition, and she had thus forgotten those promises by which she had beguiled my hopes and cherished my passion.
"In the utmost perturbation of mind, I journeyed on the rest of the night, and at daybreak reached these mountains, over which I wandered three days more, without road or path, until I came to a valley not far hence; and inquiring of some shepherds for the most rude and solitary part, they directed me to this place; where I instantly came, determined to pass here the remainder of my life. Among these crags, my mule fell down dead through weariness and hunger; and thus was I left, extended on the ground, famished and exhausted, neither hoping nor caring for relief. How long I continued in this state I know not; but at length I got up, without the sensation of hunger, and found near me some goatherds, who had undoubtedly relieved my wants: they told me of the condition in which they found me, and of many wild and extravagant things that I had uttered, clearly proving the derangement of my intellects; and I am conscious that since then I have committed a thousand extravagances, tearing my garments, cursing my fortune, and repeating in vain the beloved name of my enemy. When my senses return, I find myself so weary and bruised that I can scarcely move. My usual abode is in the hollow of a cork-tree, large enough to enclose this wretched body. Thus I pass my miserable life, waiting until it shall please Heaven to bring it to a period, or erase from my memory the beauty and treachery of Lucinda and the perfidy of Don Fernando; otherwise, Heaven have mercy on me, for I feel no power to change my mode of life."
Here Cardenio concluded his long tale of love and sorrow; and just as the priest was preparing to say something consolatory, he was prevented by the sound of a human voice, which, in a mournful tone, was heard to say what will be related in the following chapter.
CHAPTER XVII.
Of the new and agreeable adventure that befell the Priest and the Barber, and of the beautiful Dorothea.
"Alas, is it possible that I have at last found out a place which will afford a private grave to this miserable body, whose load I so repine to bear? Yes, if the silence and solitude of these deserts do not deceive me, here I may die concealed from human eyes. Ah me! ah wretched creature! to what extremity has affliction driven me, reduced to think these hideous woods and rocks a kind retreat! It is true, indeed, I may here freely complain to Heaven, and beg for that relief which I might ask in vain of false mankind; for it is vain, I find, to seek below either counsel, ease, or remedy."
