'Ah, Sancho,' replied Don Quixote, 'I think that thou hast the shallowest pate that ever any Squire had or hath in this world. Is it possible thou hast so long travelled with me and not found out that all the adventures of Knights Errant appear illusions, follies, and dreams, and turn out all contrariwise? So this that thou callest a barber's basin is to me Mambrino's helmet, and to another person has some other shape altogether. Not that it has all these shapes, but these things are the work of wicked enchanters or magicians, who transform everything, making things seem what they please in order to annoy us.'
By this time they had arrived at the foot of a lofty mountain, which stood like a huge rock apart from all the rest. Close by glided a smooth river, hemmed in on every side by a green and fertile meadow. Around were many fine trees and plants and flowers, which made the spot a most delightful one.
'Here!' cried Don Quixote in a loud voice, 'I elect to do my penance. Here shall the tears from my eyes swell the limpid streams, and here shall the sighs of my heart stir the leaves of every mountain tree. O Dulcinea of Toboso, day of my night and star of my fortunes, consider the pass to which I am come, and return a favourable answer to my wishes!'
With this he alighted from Rozinante, and, taking off his saddle and bridle, gave him a slap on his haunches, and said: 'He gives thee liberty that wants it himself, O steed, famous for thy swiftness and the great works thou hast done!'
When Sancho heard all this he could not help saying: 'I wish Dapple were here, for he deserves at least as long a speech in his praise; but truly, Sir Knight, if my journey with your letter, and your penance here, are really to take place, it would be better to saddle Rozinante again, that he may supply the want of mine Ass.'
'As thou likest about that,' said Don Quixote; 'but thou must not depart for three days as yet, during which time thou shalt see what I will say and do for my Lady's sake, that thou mayest tell her all about it.'
'But what more can I see,' asked Sancho, 'than what I have already seen?'
'Thou art well up in the matter, certainly,' replied his Master, 'for as yet I have done nothing, and if I am to be a despairing lover, I must tear my clothes, and throw away mine armour, and beat my head against these rocks, with many other things that shall make thee marvel.'
'For goodness' sake,' cried Sancho, 'take care how you go knocking your head against rocks, for you might happen to come up against so ungracious a rock that it would put an end to the penance altogether. If the knocks on the head are necessary, I should content yourself, seeing that this madness is all make-believe, with striking your head on some softer thing, and leave the rest to me, for I will tell your Lady that I saw you strike your head on the point of a rock that was harder than a diamond.'
'I thank thee, Sancho, for thy good will,' replied the Knight, 'but the rules of Knighthood forbid me to act or to speak a lie, and therefore the knocks of the head must be real solid knocks, and it will be necessary for thee to leave me some lint to cure them, seeing that fortune has deprived us of that precious Balsam.'