And now the sun had risen, and everything appeared distinctly, and Don Quixote saw that he was among some tall chestnut-trees that cast a very dark shadow. He perceived that the hammering did not cease, but could not discover what caused it, and so without delay he spurred Rozinante, and turning back again to Sancho to bid him farewell, commanded him to stay for him there three days at the longest, and that if he returned not then, to take it for certain that he had ended his days in that perilous adventure. He again repeated to him the message which he had to carry to Lady Dulcinea, and assured him that if he came safe out of this dreadful peril, the Squire might hold the promised Island as more than certain.
Here Sancho began to weep afresh at the pitiful words of his good Master, and determined not to abandon him until the last end of this adventure. And thereupon Don Quixote rode forward towards the terrible noises, Sancho following him on foot, leading by the halter his good Dapple, who was the constant companion of his good or evil fortune.
Having gone a good distance among those chestnuts and shady trees, they came to a little meadow which lay at the foot of some high rocks, down which a mighty rush of water descended. At the foot of the rocks were some houses, so roughly built that they seemed more like ruins than houses, from whence came the din and clatter of the strokes which still never ceased.
Rozinante started at the noise of the water and the hammering, and being made quiet by Don Quixote, drew near little by little to the houses. Don Quixote murmured devoutly the name of his beloved Lady Dulcinea, and Sancho, never apart from his Master's side, stretched out his neck and eyes as far as he could, to see if he could make out what it was that caused them so much terror and dismay.
And when they had gone about another hundred paces they turned a corner, and there before their eyes was the cause of that hideous and terrible noise that had kept them all the night so miserable and frightened. This was nothing worse than a mill for fulling cloth, whose six great iron maces or pestles, driven by the water-wheels, kept on day and night falling and rising from their troughs with successive hammering blows. And this had caused the terrible noise which had so terrified the adventurers.
When Don Quixote saw what it was, he stood mute and ashamed. Sancho beheld him, and saw that he hung his head on his breast. Don Quixote looked also at his Squire, and saw that his cheeks were swollen with laughter, with evident signs that he was in danger of bursting. Don Quixote's melancholy was not so great that he could help smiling a little at seeing Sancho, and Sancho, when he saw his Master beginning to laugh, burst out loud and long, with such force that he had to put his hands to his sides to prevent them splitting.
Four times he ended and four times he started again; but what chiefly enraged Don Quixote was that he began to repeat in a jesting manner, imitating his Master: 'Friend Sancho, I am he for whom are reserved all dangerous, great, and valorous feats.' And he went on repeating the greater part of what Don Quixote had said when they first heard the fearsome sounds.
This was more than Don Quixote could bear, and lifting up the end of his lance, he gave him two such blows on the back, that if he had caught them on his pate they would have freed his Master from paying him any more wages.
Sancho, seeing that he had carried the jest too far, said very humbly: 'Please, good Master, I did but jest.'
'But why dost thou jest? I tell thee I do not jest,' replied Don Quixote. 'Come here, Master Merryman, and tell me, am I, being as I am a Knight, to distinguish noises, and to know which are those of mills and which are of Giants? Turn me those six hammers into Giants and cast them at me, one by one, or all together, and if I do not turn all their heels up, then mock me as much as thou pleasest.'