'Against sane and mad,' replied Don Quixote, 'is every Knight Errant bound to stand up for the honour of women, whoever they may be. Be silent, therefore, and meddle not with what does not concern thee. Understand that all I do is guided by the rules of Knighthood, which are better known to me than to any Knight that ever lived.'

'Sir!' replied Sancho, 'is there any rule of Knighthood which obliges us to wander among the mountains looking for a madman, who, if he is found, will probably break our heads again?'

'Peace, I say, Sancho, once again!' exclaimed Don Quixote, 'for thou must know that it is not only the desire of finding the madman that brings me into these wilds, but because I have in mind to carry out an adventure that shall bring me eternal fame and renown over the whole face of the earth.'

'Is it a dangerous adventure?' asked Sancho.

'That is according as it turns out,' replied Don Quixote. 'But I will keep you no longer in the dark about it. You must know that Amadis of Gaul was the most perfect of all the Knights Errant. And as he was the morning star and the sun of all valiant Knights, so am I wise in imitating all he did. And I remember that when his Lady Oriana disdained his love, he showed his wisdom, virtue, and manhood by changing his name to Beltenebros and retiring to a wild country, there to perform a penance. And as I may more easily imitate him in this than in slaying giants, beheading serpents, killing monsters, destroying armies, and putting navies to flight, and because this mountain seems to fit for the purpose, I intend myself to do penance here.'

'But what is it that your Worship intends to do in this out of the way spot?' asked Sancho.

'Have not I told thee already,' replied his Master, 'that I mean to copy Amadis of Gaul, by acting here the part of a despairing, mad, and furious lover?'

'I believe,' continued Sancho, 'that the Knights who went through these penances must have had some reason for so doing, but what cause has your Worship for going mad? What Lady hath disdained you? How has the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso ever treated you unkindly?'

'That is just the point of it,' said Don Quixote: 'for a Knight Errant to go mad for good reason has no merit in it, but the whole kernel of the matter is to go mad without a cause. Therefore, Sancho, waste no more time, for mad I am, and mad I shall remain, until thou return again with the answer to a letter which I mean to send with thee to my Lady Dulcinea. If the answer is such as I deserve, my penance will end, but if the contrary, I shall run mad in good earnest. But tell me, Sancho, hast thou kept safely the helmet of Mambrino?'

'Really, Sir Knight,' answered Sancho, 'I cannot listen patiently to some things your Worship says, and I sometimes think all you tell me of Knighthood is nothing but a pack of lies. For to hear your Worship say that a barber's basin is Mambrino's helmet, and not to find out your mistake in four days, makes one wonder whether one is standing on one's head or one's heels. I carry the basin right enough in my baggage, all battered and dented, and intend to take it home and put it to rights, and soap my beard in it when I return to my wife and children.'