“To that we respond,” said the Knight of the Mirrors, “that you resemble the knight I vanquished as much as one egg resembles another; but since you say that enchanters pursue him, I do not dare to state whether you are the aforesaid or not.”
“That is enough,” responded Don Quixote, “for me to believe you were deceived; however, in order to free you entirely from error, let us mount our steeds; in less time than it would take you to raise your visor, if God, my lady, and my arm come to my aid, I shall see your face, and you will see that I am not the vanquished Don Quixote you think I am.”
And with this they cut short their words and mounted their horses, and Don Quixote turned the reins of Rocinante in order to take a position in the field so that he could gallop back and meet his adversary, and the Knight of the Mirrors did the same. But Don Quixote had not gone twenty paces when he heard the Knight of the Mirrors call, and both of them moved off course, and the Knight of the Mirrors said:
“Remember, Señor Knight, that the condition of our combat is that the one vanquished, as I have said before, is subject to the will of the victor.”
“I know that,” responded Don Quixote, “so long as the things the vanquished is commanded and ordered to perform do not go beyond the limits imposed by chivalry.”
“That is understood,” responded the Knight of the Mirrors.
At this moment Don Quixote caught a glimpse of the squire’s strange nose, and he was no less astounded to see it than Sancho; in fact, he judged him to be some monster or a new kind of man never before seen in the world. Sancho, who saw his master riding off so that he could charge, did not wish to remain alone with the big-nosed man, fearing that a single slap by that nose to his own would be the end of their fight, and he would be knocked to the ground by the blow, or by fright, and so he followed after his master, holding on to a strap hanging from Rocinante’s saddle, and when it seemed to him that it was time to return, he said:
“I beg your grace, Señor, that before you turn to charge you help me climb this cork tree, where I’ll be able to see better than on the ground the brave encounter your grace is going to have with that knight.”
“What I think, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “is that you want to climb up into the stands so you can watch the bullfight in safety.”
“To tell the truth,” responded Sancho, “the outsize nose of that squire has me so scared and frightened that I don’t dare stay anywhere near him.”
“It is so large,” said Don Quixote, “that if I were not who I am, I would be terrified, too, and so come, I shall help you climb the tree.”
While Don Quixote stopped to help Sancho into the cork tree, the Knight of the Mirrors took as much of the field as he thought necessary, and believing that Don Quixote had done the same, and not waiting for the sound of a trumpet or any other warning, he turned the reins of his horse—who was no faster or better looking than Rocinante—and at his full gallop, which was a medium trot, he rode to encounter his enemy, but seeing him occupied with Sancho’s climb, he checked the reins and stopped in the middle of the charge, for which the horse was extremely grateful, since he could no longer move. Don Quixote, who thought his enemy was already bearing down on him, swiftly dug his spurs into Rocinante’s skinny flanks and goaded him so mercilessly that, the history tells us, this was the only time he was known to have galloped, because on all other occasions he always ran at a pronounced trot, and with this unprecedented fury Rocinante reached the place where the Knight of the Mirrors was digging his spurs all the way into his horse without being able to move him the length of a finger from the spot where he had called a halt to his charge.
At this fortunate time and juncture, Don Quixote found his adversary held back by his horse and hindered by his lance, which he failed to, or did not have a chance to, rest in its socket. Don Quixote, who cared nothing at all for these obstacles, without any risk and with absolutely no danger, charged the Knight of the Mirrors with so much force that almost without intending to he knocked him to the ground, back over the haunches of the horse, causing him so great a fall that without moving feet or hands, he gave every sign of being dead.
As soon as Sancho saw him fall, he slid down from the cork tree and ran as fast as he could to his master, who, dismounting Rocinante, approached the Knight of the Mirrors and, unlacing his helmet to see if he was dead and, if he were alive, to give him some air…saw…Who can say what he saw without causing amazement, wonder, and fear in his listeners? He saw, says the history, the very face, the very figure, the very appearance, the very physiognomy, the very image, the personification itself of Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, and as soon as he saw him he shouted:
“Come quickly, Sancho, and look at what you will not believe! Hurry, my friend, and see what magic can do, what wizards and enchanters can do!”
Sancho came running, and when he saw the face of Bachelor Carrasco, he began to cross himself a thousand times and to make the sign of the cross a thousand more. During all this time the fallen knight gave no signs of being alive, and Sancho said to Don Quixote:
“It’s my opinion, Señor, that to be on the safe side your grace should kneel down and run your sword into the mouth of this man who seems to be Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, and maybe you’ll kill one of those enemy enchanters inside him.”
“That is not bad advice,” said Don Quixote, “because the fewer your enemies, the better.”
And as he drew his sword to carry out the advice and counsel of Sancho, the Squire of the Mirrors, now without the nose that had made him so hideous, came up to him and shouted:
“Your grace, Señor Don Quixote, think about what you are doing; that man lying at your feet is your friend Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, and I am his squire.”
And Sancho, seeing him free of his earlier ugliness, said:
“What happened to your nose?”
To which he responded:
“I have it here, in my pocket.”
And then he put his hand into his right pocket and pulled out a nose made of pasteboard and varnish, a mask, in the shape that has already been described. And Sancho looked at him more and more closely and said in a loud, surprised voice:
“Mother of God! Can this be Tomé Cecial, my neighbor and compadre?”
“Of course it is,” responded the denosed squire. “I’m Tomé Cecial, Sancho Panza, my friend and compadre, and I’ll tell you later about the secrets and lies and tricks that brought me here; in the meantime, ask and beg your master not to touch, mistreat, wound, or kill the Knight of the Mirrors who is lying at his feet, because beyond any doubt he’s the bold but badly advised Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, our neighbor.”
At this point the Knight of the Mirrors regained consciousness; Don Quixote, seeing this, held the naked tip of his sword over his face and said:
“Knight, thou art dead if thou dost not confess that the peerless Dulcinea of Toboso is more beauteous than thy Casildea of Vandalia; what is more, if thou wisheth to survive this contest and defeat, thou needs must promise to go to the city of Toboso and appear before her on my behalf, so that she may do with thee whatever she willeth; and if she givest thee leave to go, thou must come back and find me, and the trail of my great deeds will serve thee as a guide that will bring thee to me, and thou must tell me all that transpired with her; these conditions, as we agreed before our combat, do not go beyond the bounds of knight errantry.”
“I confess,” said the fallen knight, “that the torn and dirty shoe of Señora Dulcinea of Toboso is worth more than the unkempt but clean beard of Casildea, and I promise to go and return from her presence to yours, and to give you a complete and detailed account of whatever you ask.”
“Thou must also confess and believe,” added Don Quixote, “that the knight whom thou hast vanquished was not, nor could he be, Don Quixote of La Mancha, but another who resembled him, as I confess and believe that although thou resemblest Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, thou art not he but another who resembleth him, and that mine enemie
s hath placed his figure before me so that I may halt and temper the force of mine anger, and be gentle in how I use the glory of thy defeat.”
“I confess, judge, and accept everything that you believe, judge, and accept,” responded the knight with the injured back. “Let me get up, I beg you, if my fall will allow that, because it has left me badly battered.”
Don Quixote helped him to his feet, as did his squire, Tomé Cecial, and Sancho could not take his eyes off him, asking him questions whose answers were clear indications that he really was the same Tomé Cecial he said he was; but the apprehension created in Sancho by what his master had said about the enchanters transforming the figure of the Knight of the Mirrors into that of Bachelor Carrasco did not permit him to give credence to the truth he was seeing with his own eyes. In short, both master and servant were deceived, and the Knight of the Mirrors and his squire, gloomy and out of sorts, rode away from Don Quixote and Sancho, intending to find a place where they could plaster and tape the knight’s ribs. Don Quixote and Sancho continued on their way to Zaragoza, where the history leaves them in order to give an accounting of who the Knight of the Mirrors and his big-nosed squire were.
CHAPTER XV
Which recounts and relates the identity of the Knight of the Mirrors and his squire
Don Quixote was filled with contentment, pride, and vainglory at having achieved victory over so valiant a knight as he imagined the Knight of the Mirrors to be, and from his chivalric promise he hoped to learn if the enchantment of his lady was still in effect, since it was necessary for the conquered knight to return, under pain of no longer being a knight, to tell him what had transpired with her. But Don Quixote thought one thing and the Knight of the Mirrors thought another, for his only thought then was to find a place where he could apply a plaster, as has already been said.
And so, the history tells us that when Bachelor Sansón Carrasco advised Don Quixote to return to the chivalric undertakings he had abandoned, it was because he first had spoken privately with the priest and the barber regarding the steps that could be taken to prevail upon Don Quixote to remain quietly and peacefully at home and not be disturbed by ill-fated adventures; and the decision of this meeting was, by unanimous vote and the particular support of Carrasco, that they would allow Don Quixote to leave, since it seemed impossible to stop him, and that Sansón, as a knight errant, would meet him on the road and engage in combat with him, for there was no lack of reasons to fight, and he would vanquish him, on the assumption that this would be an easy thing to do, and it would be agreed and accepted that the vanquished would be at the mercy of the victor, and when Don Quixote had been vanquished, the bachelor-knight would order him to return to his village and his house and not leave again for two years, or until he had commanded otherwise; it was clear that the vanquished Don Quixote would undoubtedly obey in order not to contravene or disrespect the laws of chivalry, and it might be that in the time of his seclusion he would forget his illusions, or a worthwhile remedy would be found to cure his madness.
Carrasco agreed, and Tomé Cecial, Sancho Panza’s compadre and neighbor, and a cheerful, lighthearted man, volunteered to be his squire. Sansón armed himself in the manner described, and Tomé Cecial placed on his natural nose the false nose already referred to, so that his compadre would not recognize him when they met; they followed the same route taken by Don Quixote, and they almost arrived in time to take part in the adventure of the cart of Death. Finally, they met in the wood, where everything the prudent reader has just read happened to them, and if it had not been for Don Quixote’s extraordinary ideas that led him to believe the bachelor was not the bachelor, Señor Bachelor would have been forever incapable of receiving his licentiate’s degree, for he thought he would find birds and did not even find nests.
Tomé Cecial, who saw how badly their plans had turned out and how unfortunately their journey had ended, said to the bachelor:
“Certainly, Señor Sansón Carrasco, we’ve gotten what we deserved: it’s easy enough to think up and begin an enterprise, but most of the time it’s hard to end it. Don Quixote’s crazy, we’re sane, and he walks away healthy and laughing, while your grace is bruised and sad. So tell me now, who’s crazier: the man who’s crazy because he can’t help it or the man who chooses to be crazy?”
To which Sansón responded:
“The difference between those two madmen is that the one who can’t help it will always be mad, and the one who chooses can stop whenever he wants to.”
“Well, that’s true,” said Tomé Cecial. “I chose to be crazy when I decided to become your grace’s squire, and by the same token I want to stop now and go back home.”
“That may be convenient for you,” responded Sansón, “but if you think I’ll go back to mine before I’ve given Don Quixote a good beating, then you are sadly mistaken; I’m moved now not by the desire to help him recover his sanity, but by the desire for revenge; the terrible pain in my ribs does not allow me to speak more piously.”
The two men conversed in this manner until they reached a village where they happened to find a bonesetter who cured the unfortunate Sansón. Tomé Cecial turned back and left him, and Sansón remained behind to imagine his revenge, and the history speaks of him again at the proper time, but it joyfully returns now to Don Quixote.
CHAPTER XVI
Regarding what befell Don Quixote with a prudent knight of La Mancha
With the joy, contentment, and pride that have already been mentioned, Don Quixote continued his journey, imagining, because of his recent victory, that he was the world’s most valiant knight errant of the age; he considered any adventures that might befall him from that time on as already completed and brought to a happy conclusion; he held enchantments and enchanters in contempt; he did not recall the countless beatings he had received in the course of his chivalric exploits, or the stones that had knocked out half his teeth, or the ingratitude of the galley slaves, or the Yanguesans’ audacious rainstorm of staffs. In short, he said to himself that if he could find the art, means, or manner to disenchant his lady Dulcinea, he would not envy the greatest good fortune that ever was achieved or could be achieved by the most fortunate knight errant of past times. He was completely lost in these thoughts when Sancho said:
“Isn’t it funny, Señor, that I still can see the awful outsize nose of my compadre Tomé Cecial?”
“Do you still believe, Sancho, that the Knight of the Mirrors was Bachelor Carrasco, and your compadre Tomé Cecil was his squire?”
“I don’t know what to say about that,” responded Sancho. “All I know is that he was the only one who could have told me what he did about my house, my wife, and my children, and except for the nose, his face was the face of Tomé Cecial, just as I have seen it so often in my village and in his house that shares a wall with mine, and the sound of his voice was the same.”
“Let us reason about this, Sancho,” replied Don Quixote. “Come, does it make sense that Bachelor Sansón Carrasco should appear as a knight errant, armed with offensive and defensive weapons, to do battle with me? Have I, by chance, been his enemy? Have I ever given him reason to bear me ill will? Am I his rival, or does he profess arms, that he would be envious of the fame I have won through their exercise?”
“But what do we say, Señor,” responded Sancho, “about that knight, whoever he was, looking so much like Bachelor Carrasco, and his squire looking like my compadre Tomé Cecial? If it’s enchantment, like your grace says, weren’t there any other men in the world they could have looked like?”
“Everything is artifice and mere appearance,” responded Don Quixote, “devised by the evil magicians who pursue me; foreseeing that I would emerge victorious from the battle, they arranged for the defeated knight to show the face of my friend the bachelor, so that the friendship I have for him would be placed between the edges of my sword, and stay the severity of my arm, and temper the righteous anger of my heart, and in this manner the one who was attempting to take my life thr
ough trickery and falsehood would save his own. As proof of this you already know, O Sancho, through experience that will not allow you to lie or deceive, how easy it is for enchanters to transform one face into another, making the beautiful ugly and the ugly beautiful; no more than two days ago you saw with your own eyes the beauty and grace of the peerless Dulcinea in all her natural perfection and harmony, and I saw her as an ugly, lowborn peasant girl with cataracts in her eyes and a foul smell in her mouth; further, if the perverse enchanter dared to make so evil a transformation, it is not difficult to believe that he transformed Sansón Carrasco and your compadre in order to steal the glory of conquest right out of my hands. But despite this I am comforted, because in the end, regardless of his shape and appearance, I have conquered my enemy.”
“God knows the truth of all things,” responded Sancho.
And since he knew that the transformation of Dulcinea had been his own trickery and deception, the chimerical ideas of his master did not satisfy him, but he did not wish to respond so as not to say anything that might reveal his lie.
They were engaged in this conversation when they were overtaken by a man riding behind them on the same road, mounted on a very beautiful dapple mare and wearing a coat of fine green cloth trimmed with tawny velvet and a cap made of the same velvet; the mare’s trappings, in the rustic style and with a short stirrup, were also purple and green. He wore a Moorish scimitar hanging from a wide green and gold swordbelt, and his half boots matched his swordbelt; his spurs were not gilt but touched with a green varnish, so glossy and polished that, since they matched the rest of his clothing, they looked better than if they had been made of pure gold. When the traveler reached them he greeted them courteously and spurred his mare in order to pass by, but Don Quixote said:
“Gallant Señor, if your grace is traveling the same road and is not in a hurry, I would be very pleased if we traveled together.”
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