‘Have I the air of an innkeeper?’ asked Don Quixote loftily.
‘I do not know of what you have the air,’ answered the man, ‘but this I do know, and that is that you are jesting when you call this inn a castle.’
‘But it is a castle,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘and one of the finest in the whole country! And within are those who carry crowns on their heads and sceptres in their hands.’
‘It may well be that inside are players with crowns and sceptres both,’ answered the traveller, ‘for in so small an inn no real kings and their trains would find a place’; and, being weary of talking, he knocked at the door with more violence than before.
Meanwhile, one of the horses had drawn near to Rozinante, wondering what the strange creature could be, of a form like unto his own, but to all outward seeming formed of wood. Rozinante, cheered by the presence of one of his own kind, moved his body a little, which caused Don Quixote to slip from his saddle, and to remain hanging by his arm, though his feet almost touched the ground. The pain of thus being suspended from his arm was so great that, knight though he was, he shrieked in agony, till the people in the inn ran to the doors to see what was the matter.
Maritornes alone, fearing punishment, slipped round another way, and unfastened the cord which bound Don Quixote, who dropped to the ground as the travellers came up, and in answer to their questions mounted Rozinante, and, after riding round the field, reined up suddenly in front of them, crying:
‘Whoever shall proclaim that I have suffered enchantment I give him the lie, and challenge him to meet me in single combat.’
But instead of answering his defiance the guests merely stood and stared at him, till the innkeeper whispered that he was a noble gentleman, a little touched in his wits, so they took no further notice of his words. This so enraged Don Quixote that he was only withheld from fighting them all by remembering that nowhere in the records of chivalry was it lawful to undertake a second adventure before the first had drawn to a good end.
Meanwhile a new strife had begun in the inn, for two of the travellers who had lodged there during the night were found trying to leave the inn without paying their reckoning. But it happened that the landlord detected their purpose and held them fast, upon which the two fellows set on him with blows, till his daughter ran to Don Quixote and implored his help.
‘Beautiful damsel,’ replied the knight slowly, ‘just now I cannot listen to your prayer, for the laws of chivalry forbid my engaging in a fresh adventure. But tell your father to keep his assailants at bay, while I ride to the Princess Micomicona, in whose service I already am, and ask her leave to aid him in his trouble.’