With more discourse of a like kind they passed their journey, till they came to the cave the next day, having slept the night before in a village on the road. There they bought a hundred fathoms of cord, to let Don Quixote down to the lowest part of the cave. No sooner was he come to the place, than he prepared for his expedition into that under-world, telling the scholar, that he was resolved to reach the bottom, though deep as the most profound abyss; and all having alighted, the squire and his guide accordingly girt him fast with a rope. While this was doing, "Good sweet sir," quoth Sancho, "consider what you do. Do not venture into such a horrid black hole! Look before you leap, sir, and be not so wilful as to bury yourself alive. Do not hang yourself like a bottle or a bucket, that is let down to be soused in a well." "Peace, coward," said the knight, "and bind me fast; for surely for me such an enterprise as this is reserved." "Pray, sir," said the student, "when you are in, be very vigilant in exploring and observing all the rarities in the place. Let nothing escape your eyes; perhaps you may discover there some things worthy to be inserted in my Metamorphoses." "Let him alone," quoth Sancho, "he will go through with it: he will make a hog or a dog of it, I will warrant you."
Don Quixote being well bound, bethought himself of one thing they had forgot. "We did ill," said he, "not to provide ourselves with a little bell, that I might ring for more or less rope as I require it, and inform you of my being alive. But since there is no remedy, Heaven prosper me." Then kneeling down, he in a low voice recommended himself to the Divine Providence for assistance and success in an adventure so strange, and in all appearance so dangerous. Then raising his voice, "O thou lady of my life," cried he, "most illustrious Dulcinea del Toboso, if the prayers of an adventurous absent lover may reach the ears of the far distant object of his wishes, by the power of thy unspeakable beauty, I conjure thee to grant me thy favour and protection, in this plunge and precipice of my fortune! I am now going to engulf, and cast myself into this dismal profundity, that the world may know nothing can be impossible to him who, influenced by thy smiles, attempts, under the banner of thy beauty, the most difficult task."
This said, he got up again, and approaching the entrance of the cave, he found it stopped up with brakes and bushes, so that he would be obliged to make his way by force. Whereupon, drawing his sword, he began to cut and slash the brambles that stopped up the mouth of the cave; when, presently, an infinite number of crows and daws came rushing and fluttering out of the cave about his ears, so thick, and with such impetuosity, as almost struck him to the ground. He was not superstitious enough to draw any ill omen from the flight of the birds; besides it was no small encouragement to him, that he spied no bats nor owls nor other ill-boding birds of night among them: he therefore rose again with an undaunted heart, and committed himself to the black and dreadful abyss. But Sancho and the student first gave him their benediction, and prayed for the knight's safe and speedy return.
Don Quixote began to descend, calling for more rope, which they gave him by degrees, till his voice was drowned in the winding of the cave, and their cordage was run out. That done, they began to consider whether they should hoist him up again immediately or no; however, they resolved to stay half an hour, and then they began to draw up the rope, but were strangely surprised to find no weight upon it, which made them conclude the poor gentleman was certainly lost. Sancho, bursting out into tears, made a heavy lamentation, and fell a hauling up the rope as fast as he could, to be thoroughly satisfied. But after they had drawn up about fourscore fathoms, they felt a weight again, which made them take heart; and at length they plainly saw Don Quixote. "Welcome," cried Sancho to him, as soon he came in sight; "welcome, dear master. I am glad you are come back again; we were afraid you had been pawned for the reckoning." But Sancho had no answer to his compliment; and when they had pulled the knight quite up, they found that his eyes were closed as if he had been fast asleep. They laid him on the ground and unbound him. Yet he made no sign of waking, and all their turning and shaking was little enough to make him come to himself.
At last he began to stretch his limbs, as if he had waked out of the most profound sleep; and staring wildly about him, "Heaven forgive you, friends!" cried he, "for you have raised me from one of the sweetest lives that ever mortal led, and most delightful sights that ever eyes beheld. Now I perceive how fleeting are all the joys of this transitory life; they are but an imperfect dream, they fade like a flower, and vanish like a shadow. O ill-fated Montesinos! O Durandarte, unfortunately wounded! O unhappy Belerma! O deplorable Guadiana! and you the distressed daughters of Ruydera, whose flowing waters shew what streams of tears once trickled from your lovely eyes!" These expressions, uttered with great passion and concern, surprised the scholar and Sancho, and they desired to know his meaning, and what he had seen in that horrid dungeon. "Call it not so," answered Don Quixote, "for it deserves a better name, as I shall soon let you know. But first give me something to eat, for I am prodigiously hungry." They then spread the scholar's coarse saddle-cloth for a carpet; and examining their old cupboard, the knapsack, they all three sat down on the grass, and eat heartily together, like men that were a meal or two behindhand. When they had done, "Let no man stir," said Don Quixote; "sit still, and hear me with attention."
CHAPTER LV.
Of the wonderful things which the unparalleled Don Quixote declared he had seen in the deep cave of Montesinos, the greatness and impossibility of which make this adventure pass for apocryphal.
It was now past four in the afternoon, and the sun was opportunely hid behind the clouds, which, interposing between his rays, invited Don Quixote, without heat or trouble, to relate the wonders he had seen in Montesinos' cave.
"About twelve or fourteen men's depth," said he, "in the profundity of this cavern, on the right hand, there is a concavity wide enough to contain a large waggon, mules and all. This place is not wholly dark, for through some chinks and narrow holes, that reach to the distant surface of the earth, there comes a glimmering light. I discovered this recess, being already weary of hanging by the loins, discouraged by the profound darkness of the region below me, destitute of a guide, and not knowing whither I went: resolving therefore to rest myself there a while, I called to you to give me no more rope, but it seems you did not hear me. I therefore entered, and coiling up the cord, sat upon it very melancholy, and thinking how I should most conveniently get down to the bottom, having nobody to guide or support me. While I thus sat pensive, and lost in thought, insensibly, without any previous drowsiness, I found myself surprised by sleep; and after that, not knowing how, nor which way I wakened, I unexpectedly found myself in the finest and most delightful meadow, that ever nature adorned with her beauties, or the most inventive fancy could ever imagine. Now, that I might be sure this was neither a dream nor an allusion, I rubbed my eyes, felt several parts of my body, and convinced myself that I was really awake, with the use of all my senses, and all the faculties of my understanding sound and active as at this moment.