“I am called Dona Rodriguez de Grijalba,” replied the duenna; “what is your will, brother?” To which Sancho made answer, “I should be glad if your worship would do me the favour to go out to the castle gate, where you will find a grey ass of mine; make them, if you please, put him in the stable, or put him there yourself, for the poor little beast is rather easily frightened, and cannot bear being alone at all.”
“If the master is as wise as the man,” said the duenna, “we have got a fine bargain. Be off with you, brother, and bad luck to you and him who brought you here; go, look after your ass, for we, the duennas of this house, are not used to work of that sort.”
“Well then, in troth,” returned Sancho, “I have heard my master, who is the very treasure-finder of stories, telling the story of Lancelot when he came from Britain, say that ladies waited upon him and duennas upon his hack; and, if it comes to my ass, I wouldn’t change him for Señor Lancelot’s hack.”
“If you are a jester, brother,” said the duenna, “keep your drolleries for some place where they’ll pass muster and be paid for; for you’ll get nothing from me but a fig.”
“At any rate, it will be a very ripe one,” said Sancho, “for you won’t lose the trick in years by a point too little.”
“Son of a bitch,” said the duenna, all aglow with anger, “whether I’m old or not, it’s with God I have to reckon, not with you, you garlic-stuffed scoundrel!” and she said it so loud, that the duchess heard it, and turning round and seeing the duenna in such a state of excitement, and her eyes flaming so, asked whom she was wrangling with.
“With this good fellow here,” said the duenna, “who has particularly requested me to go and put an ass of his that is at the castle gate into the stable, holding it up to me as an example that they did the same I don’t know where—that some ladies waited on one Lancelot, and duennas on his hack; and what is more, to wind up with, he called me old.”
“That,” said the duchess, “I should have considered the greatest affront that could be offered me;” and addressing Sancho, she said to him, “You must know, friend Sancho, that Dona Rodriguez is very youthful, and that she wears that hood more for authority and custom’s sake than because of her years.”
“May all the rest of mine be unlucky,” said Sancho, “if I meant it that way; I only spoke because the affection I have for my ass is so great, and I thought I could not commend him to a more kind-hearted person than the lady Dona Rodriguez.”
Don Quixote, who was listening, said to him, “Is this proper conversation for the place, Sancho?”