Sancho Panza bowed his head with great reverence when he heard this, and kissed both his Master's hands, which were bound tightly together. Then the phantoms lifted up the cage and hoisted it on to the wagon that was drawn by the team of oxen.
After bidding farewell to all their friends, the procession started. First went the cart guided by the carter, then the troopers, then followed Sancho upon his Ass leading Rozinante by the bridle, and last of all the Curate and the Barber, riding their mighty mules, with masks on their faces.
Don Quixote sat with his hands tied and his legs stretched out, leaning against a bar of the cage, with such a silence and such patience that he seemed rather to be a statue than a man. And thus at an Alderman-like pace, such as suited the slow steps of the heavy oxen, they journeyed home.
At the end of two days they arrived at Don Quixote's village, into which they entered about noon. This was on a Sunday, when all the people were in the market-place, through the midst of which Don Quixote's cart passed. All drew near to see what was in it, and when they knew their neighbour they were greatly astounded. A little boy ran home before, to tell the old woman and the Niece that their Lord and Uncle was returned. It would have moved one to pity to have heard the cries and lamentations the two good women made, and the curses they poured out against all Books of Knighthood, when they saw Don Quixote enter the gates of his own house again in so strange a carriage.
Sancho Panza's wife, when she heard of his return, ran forward to meet her husband, and the first question she asked was whether the Ass were in health or no.
Sancho answered that he was come in better health than his master.
'Tell me, then,' cried his wife, 'what profit hast thou reaped by this Squireship? What petticoat hast thou brought me home? What shoes for the little boys?'
'I bring none of these things, good wife,' replied Sancho, 'though I bring things better thought of and of greater moment.'
'I am glad of that,' said his wife, 'for I should like to see them, to the end that my heart may be cheered, which hath been swollen and sorrowful for so long, all the time of thine absence.'