'When I went to give it to her,' said Sancho, 'she was all in a bustle with a good lot of wheat in her sieve, and said to me: "Lay down that letter there on the sack, for I cannot read it until I have winnowed all that is here."'
'O discreet Lady!' said Don Quixote; 'she must have done that, so that she might read and enjoy it at leisure. Go on, then, Sancho, and tell all she said about me, and what thou saidst to her.'
'She asked me nothing,' replied the Squire, 'but I told her the state which I left you in for her sake, doing penance all naked from the girdle up among these rocks like a brute beast, and I told her how you slept on the ground and never combed your beard, but spent your time weeping and cursing your fortune.'
'There thou saidst ill,' said Don Quixote, 'for I do not curse my fortune, but rather bless it, seeing that it hath made me worthy to merit the love of so beautiful a lady as Dulcinea of Toboso. But tell me, after she had sifted her corn and sent it to the mill, did she then read my letter?'
'The letter,' replied Sancho, 'she did never read, for she said she could neither read nor write, and therefore she tore it into small pieces, and would allow no one to read it lest the whole village might know her secrets. Lastly, she told me that I was to say to your Worship that she kissed your hands, and that she had a greater desire to see you than to write to you. Therefore she begged, as you loved her, that you should quit these bushes and brambles, and leave off these mad pranks, and set out for Toboso, for she had a great longing to see your Worship. She laughed a good deal when I told her they called your Worship the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. I asked her whether the beaten Biscayan came there. She said yes, and that he was a very good fellow. I asked also after the galley slaves; but she told me that she had seen none of them as yet.'
'All goes well, then,' said Don Quixote; 'but tell me, what jewel did she bestow on thee at thy departure for reward of the tidings thou hadst brought? For it is a usual and ancient custom among Knights Errant and their Ladies to give to their Squires, damsels, or dwarfs who bring good tidings, some rich jewel as a reward for their welcome news.'
'It may well be,' replied Sancho; 'and I think it was a most excellent custom, but I doubt if it exists nowadays, for it would seem to be the manner of our age only to give a piece of bread and cheese; for this was all that my Lady Dulcinea bestowed on me when I took my leave, and, by the way, the cheese was made of sheep's milk.'
'She is marvellous liberal,' said the Knight; 'and if she gave thee not a jewel of gold, it was doubtless because she had none then about her. But that will be put right some day. Knowest thou, Sancho, at what I am astonished? It is at thy sudden return, for it seems to me thou wast gone and hast come back again in the air, for thou hast been away but a little more than three days, although Toboso is more than thirty leagues from hence. Therefore I do believe that the wise Enchanter, who takes care of my affairs and is my friend, must have helped thee to travel without thy being aware of it. For there are sages that take up a Knight Errant sleeping in his bed, and, without knowing how or in what manner, he awakes the next day more than a thousand leagues from the place where he fell asleep. For otherwise Knights Errant could not help one another in perils as they do now. For it may be that one is fighting in the mountains of Armenia with some dragon or fierce serpent, and is at the point of death, and, just when he least expects it, he sees on a cloud, or in a chariot of fire, some other Knight, his friend, who a little before was in England, who helps him and delivers him from danger. And all this is done by the craft and wisdom of those sage Enchanters who take care of valorous Knights. But, leaving all this apart, what dost thou think I should do about my Lady's commands to go and see her?'
'Tell me, good your Worship,' replied Sancho, 'do you intend to journey to Toboso and lose so rich and noble a prize as this Princess? Peace! take my advice and marry her in the first village that hath a parish priest, or let the Curate do it, for he is here, and remember the old saying, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."'
'Look you, Sancho,' said his Master, 'if you counsel me to marry, to the end that I may be King when I have slain the Giant and be able to give you an Island, know that I can do that without marrying, for I will make it a condition that upon conquering this monster they shall give me a portion of the Kingdom, although I marry not the Princess, and this I will bestow upon thee.'