'What can be noised abroad in any village or in any of the cities of the world to my discredit, villain?' asked his Master angrily.

'If you are angry,' said Sancho, 'I will hold my tongue and omit to say that which by the duty of a good Squire, and an honest servant, I am bound to tell you.'

'Say what thou wilt,' said Don Quixote, and he waited to hear what his Squire had to say.

'What I mean,' continued Sancho, 'and what I hold for most sure and certain is, that this Lady, who calls herself Queen of the great Kingdom of Micomicona, is no more a Queen than my mother. For if she were what she says, she would not at every corner be billing and cooing with one that is in this good company.'

Dorothea blushed at Sancho's words, for it was true indeed that her lover Don Fernando had sometimes on the sly gathered from her lips the reward of his affections. She was neither able nor willing to answer Sancho a word, but let him go on with his speech, which he did as follows:—

'This I say, good my Lord, to this end, that if after we have travelled highways and byways and endured bad nights and worse days, he that is in this Inn,' and Sancho looked knowingly at Don Fernando, 'shall marry our Princess and get the fruits of your labours, there is no need to hasten, methinks, to saddle Rozinante or harness Dapple, or make ready the palfrey seeing it would be better that we stayed still and looked after our dinner.'

You may imagine how great was the fury that inflamed Don Quixote when he heard his Squire speak so rudely. It was so great that, with a shaking voice, a faltering tongue, and the fire sparking out of his eyes, he said: 'O villainous peasant, rash, unmannerly, ignorant, rude, foul-mouthed backbiter and slanderer! Darest thou utter such words in my presence and in that of these noble Ladies? Hast thou dared to entertain such rash and stupid fancies in thy muddled imagination? Out of my sight, monster of nature, storehouse of untruth, armoury of falsehood, sink of roguery, inventor of villainy, publisher of ravings, enemy of the respect due to Royal persons. Away, villain, and never more appear before me on pain of my wrath.'

So saying, he bent his brows and glared around on every side as he struck a mighty blow upon the ground with his right foot. And at these words and furious gestures, poor Sancho was so greatly frightened, that he could have wished in that instant that the earth opening under his feet would swallow him up.

But the witty Dorothea, who now understood Don Quixote's humour perfectly, to appease his anger spoke to him thus: 'Be not offended, good Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, at the idle words your good Squire hath spoken. For perhaps he hath not said them without some ground, and we cannot suspect from a man of his good understanding that he would knowingly slander or accuse any one falsely. And therefore we must believe that without doubt, as you have yourself said, Sir Knight, in this Castle all things are subject to enchantment, and it might well happen that Sancho may have been deceived by some wicked illusion.'

'I vow,' cried Don Quixote, 'that your Highness has hit the truth, and that some evil vision appeared to this sinner, my man Sancho, that made him see things that he could not have seen unless by enchantment. For I also know very well, that the great goodness and simplicity of the poor wretch is such, that he knows not how to invent a lie on anybody living.'