Don Quixote

by Miguel de Cervantes

  “I can believe that,” responded Sancho, “because she’s a wonderful woman, and except for her being jealous, I wouldn’t trade her for the giantess Andandona,2 who, according to my master, was a very honorable and upright woman; my Teresa is one of those women who won’t let themselves fare badly even at the expense of their heirs.”

  “Now I say,” said Don Quixote at this point, “that the man who reads a good deal and travels a good deal, sees a good deal and knows a good deal. I say this because what argument would have been enough to persuade me that there are monkeys in the world who can soothsay, as I have just seen with my own eyes? Because I am the very same Don Quixote of La Mancha mentioned by this good animal, although he has gone a little too far in praising me; but no matter, I give thanks to heaven, who granted me a gentle and compassionate spirit, always inclined to do good to everyone and evil to none.”

  “If I had money,” said the page, “I’d ask this noble monkey what will happen to me on the travels I’m undertaking.”

  To which Master Pedro, who by this time had risen from the feet of Don Quixote, responded:

  “I’ve already said that this beast does not speak of the future, but if he did, not having money wouldn’t matter, because for the sake of serving Señor Don Quixote, here present, I would give up all the profits in the world. And now, because I owe it to him, and to give him pleasure, I would like to set up my puppet stage and delight everyone in the inn, at no charge whatsoever.”

  When he heard this, the innkeeper, who was overjoyed, indicated the spot where the stage could be placed, and this was done in very short order.

  Don Quixote was not very pleased with the monkey’s soothsaying, for it did not seem right that a monkey could divine things, whether things of the future or of the past, and so while Master Pedro was arranging the stage, Don Quixote withdrew with Sancho to a corner of the stable where no one could hear them, and he said:

  “Look, Sancho, I have considered very carefully the strange talent of this monkey, and in my opinion this Master Pedro, his owner, must have made a pact, either implicit or explicit, with the devil.”

  “If the pack’s split and belongs to the devil,” said Sancho, “it must be a very dirty pack, no doubt about it, but what good would that do Master Pedro?”

  “You do not understand me, Sancho: I mean only that he must have made some agreement with the devil to grant this talent to the monkey so that Master Pedro could earn his living, and when he is rich the devil will take his soul, which is precisely what the universal enemy wishes. And what makes me believe this is seeing that the monkey replies only to past or present things, which is as far as the devil’s knowledge can go; future things cannot be known except through conjecture, and only occasionally, for knowing all times and moments is reserved to God alone, and for Him there is no past or future: everything is present. And this being true, as it is, it is clear that this monkey speaks in the style of the devil, and I am amazed that he has not been denounced to the Holy Office, and examined, and forced to tell by whose power he divines, for it is also clear that this monkey is not an astrologer, and neither he nor his master casts, or knows how to cast, the astrological charts used so widely now in Spain that there’s not a fishwife, page, or old cobbler who does not presume to cast a chart as if it were the knave in a pack of cards lying on the floor, corrupting the marvelous truths of science with their lies and ignorance. I know of a lady who asked one of them if a small lapdog she had would become pregnant and give birth, and how many pups she would have and what color they would be. To which our noble astrologer responded that the dog would become pregnant and give birth to three pups, one green, one red, and one spotted, provided that the dog was mounted between eleven and twelve in the morning, or at night, and that it took place on a Monday or a Saturday; and what happened was that two days later the little dog died of indigestion, and the noble prognosticator was credited in the town with being a very accurate caster of charts, a reputation that all or most astrologers have.”

  “Even so,” said Sancho, “I would like your grace to tell Master Pedro to ask his monkey if what happened to your grace in the Cave of Montesinos is true; in my opinion, begging your grace’s pardon, it was all deceptions and lies, or at least nothing but dreams.”

  “Everything is possible,” responded Don Quixote, “but I shall do as you advise, although I still have certain scruples in that regard.”

  As they were speaking, Master Pedro came looking for Don Quixote to tell him that the puppet stage was ready, and that his grace should come to see it because it was worthwhile. Don Quixote told him what he was thinking and implored him to first ask his monkey to tell him if certain things that had occurred in the Cave of Montesinos were dreamed or true, because it seemed to him that they were both. To which Master Pedro, without saying a word, brought back his monkey, and standing in front of Don Quixote and Sancho, he said:

  “Look, noble monkey, this knight wishes to know if certain things that happened to him in a cave called Montesinos were false or true.”

  And after his master had made the usual signal, the monkey jumped onto his left shoulder and spoke to him, apparently, in his ear, and then Master Pedro said:

  “The monkey says that some of the things your grace saw, or experienced, in the aforesaid cave are false, and some are true, and this is all he knows, nothing more, with regard to this question, and if your grace should wish to know more, next Friday he will respond to everything you ask of him, but for the moment he has used up his abilities, and they won’t return until Friday, as he has said.”

  “Didn’t I say,” said Sancho, “that I couldn’t believe, Señor, that everything your grace said about what happened in the cave was true, not even half?”

  “Events will tell the truth of things, Sancho,” responded Don Quixote, “for time, which reveals all things, brings everything into the light of day even if it is hidden in the bowels of the earth. Enough of that for now; let us go to see the puppet show of our good Master Pedro, for I believe it must hold some surprises.”

  “What do you mean, some?” responded Master Pedro. “Sixty thousand are contained in this show of mine; I tell your grace, Señor Don Quixote, that it is one of the most spectacular things in the world today, but operibus credite, et non verbis.3 and now to work, for it is getting late, and we have much to do and say and show.”

  Don Quixote and Sancho did as he asked and went to the place where the stage was set up for all to see, and it was filled with the light of little wax candles that made it look colorful and resplendent. As soon as they arrived, Master Pedro went inside the puppet theater, for it was he who would manipulate the figures in the play, and outside stood a boy, a servant of Master Pedro’s, to act as interpreter and narrator of the mysteries on stage; in his hand he held a rod with which he pointed to the figures as they came out.

  When everyone in the inn was sitting, and some standing, in front of the stage, and Don Quixote, Sancho, the page, and the cousin were settled in the best places, the interpreter began to say what will be heard and seen by those who hear or see the following chapter.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  In which the diverting adventure of the puppet master continues, along with other things that are really very worthwhile

  All fell silent, both Tyrians and Trojans,1

  I mean to say, all those looking at the stage were waiting to hear the words of the narrator regarding its marvels when the sound of a large number of drums and trumpets was heard, and a good deal of artillery firing, then the sound soon ended and the boy raised his voice and said:

  “This true history, presented here for your graces, is taken literally from the French chronicles and Spanish ballads which are in the mouths of everyone, even children, on our streets. It tells of how Señor Don Gaiferos freed his wife, Melisendra, who was held captive in Spain by the Moors, in the city of Sansueña, which was the name given in those days to the city of Zaragoza;2 and your graces can see there how Don Gaiferos
is playing backgammon, as they sing in the song:

  Don Gaiferos is playing at backgammon,

  his lady Melisendra is forgotten.3

  And the personage who appears now with a crown on his head and a scepter in his hands is the Emperor Charlemagne, the supposed father of Melisendra, and he, angry at seeing the idleness and neglect of his son-in-law, comes to reprimand him; notice how earnestly and heatedly he reprimands him, as if he wanted to hit him half a dozen times on the head with his scepter, and there are even authors who say that he did hit him, and hit him hard; and after saying many things to him about the danger to his honor because he would not obtain the liberty of his wife, they say that he said to him:

  ‘I have said enough: look to it.’4

  And look, your graces, at how the emperor turns his back and leaves an indignant Don Gaiferos; now see how he, made impatient by anger, tosses away the backgammon board and pieces and quickly asks for his armor, and asks his cousin Don Roland for the loan of his sword, Durindana, and see how Don Roland does not want to lend it to him, offering instead to accompany him in the difficult enterprise he is undertaking; but the angry and valiant knight does not accept, saying that alone he is enough to rescue his wife, even if she is held at the very center of the earth; and now he goes in to put on his armor so that he can set out immediately. Your graces, turn your eyes to the tower that you see there; it is one of the towers of Zaragoza’s castle-fortress now called La Aljafería; and that lady you see on the balcony, dressed in the Moorish fashion, is the peerless Melisendra, who would often stand there, and look at the road to France, and turn her thoughts to Paris and her husband, finding consolation in her captivity. Look too at what is happening now, perhaps unlike anything you have ever seen before. Don’t you see that Moor stealing up behind Melisendra on tiptoe, his finger to his lips? Well, look at how he kisses her right on the mouth, and how quickly she spits and wipes her mouth with the white sleeve of her dress, and how she laments, and in her grief tears at her beautiful hair as if it were to blame for the offense. Look too at that somber Moor in the passageway, King Marsilio of Sansueña, who saw the insolence of the other Moor, had him arrested, though he was a relative and a great favorite, and ordered him to be given two hundred lashes and to be taken through the usual streets of the city,

  With town criers walking before

  and armed bailiffs coming behind;5

  and see here where they are coming to carry out the sentence so soon after the crime was committed, because the Moors don’t have the ‘indictment of the accused’ and ‘remanded to custody’ that we do.”

  “Boy, boy,” said Don Quixote in a loud voice, “tell your story in a straight line and do not become involved in curves or transverse lines, for to get a clear idea of the truth, one must have proofs and more proofs.”

  And from the interior, Master Pedro also said:

  “Boy, tend to your business and do what that gentleman says, that’s the right thing to do; go on with your plainsong and don’t get involved in counterpoints that usually break because they’re so re-fined.”

  “I will,” responded the boy, and he continued, saying:

  “This figure who appears here on horseback, wrapped in a Gascony cape, is Don Gaiferos himself, and see his wife, who has been avenged for the insolence of the enamored Moor, looking better and more tranquil as she stands at the window of the tower and talks to her husband, thinking he is a passerby, and saying to him all those words and phrases in the ballad that says:

  Señor Knight, if you’re bound for France,

  then ask after Don Gaiferos;

  I won’t recite them now because going on too long gives rise to boredom; it’s enough to see how Don Gaiferos reveals his identity, and through her joyful gestures Melisendra lets us know that she has recognized him, and now we see her letting herself down from the balcony in order to sit on the hindquarters of her good husband’s horse. But oh! What misfortune! The lace of her skirt has caught on some of the wrought iron at the balcony, and she hangs in midair and cannot reach the ground. But see how merciful heaven sends help at the moment of greatest need, for here comes Don Gaiferos, and not worrying about tearing the rich skirt, he grasps her and simply pulls her down to the ground, and then in a leap he sets her on his horse’s hindquarters, astride like a man, and tells her to hold on tight and places her arms over his shoulders and crosses them on his chest so that she doesn’t fall, since Señora Melisendra was not accustomed to this kind of riding. See too how the neighing of the horse shows that he is content to be carrying the valiant and beautiful burden of his lord and lady. See how they turn their backs and leave the city, and with joy and delight take the road to Paris. Go in peace, O peerless pair of true lovers! May you arrive safely in your own dear country, and may fortune place no obstacle in the way of your happy journey! May the eyes of your friends and relations see you enjoy your days in peace and tranquility, and may those granted you in this life be as many as those of Nestor!”6

  At this point Master Pedro once again raised his voice, saying:

  “Simplicity, boy, don’t be arrogant, all affectation is bad.”

  The interpreter said nothing in reply but went on, saying:

  “There was no lack of curious eyes, the kind that tend to see everything, to see Melisendra descend from the balcony and mount the horse, and they informed King Marsilio, who immediately gave orders to sound the call to arms; and see how soon this is done, and how the city is flooded with the sound of the bells that ring from all the towers of the mosques.”

  “No, that is wrong!” said Don Quixote. “Master Pedro is incorrect in the matter of the bells, for the Moors do not use bells but drums and a kind of flute that resembles our flageolet, and there is no doubt that ringing bells in Sansueña is a great piece of nonsense.”

  This was heard by Master Pedro, who stopped the ringing and said:

  “Your grace should not concern yourself with trifles, Señor Don Quixote, or try to carry things so far that you never reach the end of them. Aren’t a thousand plays performed almost every day that are full of a thousand errors and pieces of nonsense, and yet are successful productions that are greeted not only with applause but with admiration? Go on, boy, and let them say what they will, for as long as I fill my purse, there can be more errors than atoms in the sun.”

  “That is true,” replied Don Quixote.

  And the boy said:

  “Look at the number of brilliant horsemen riding out of the city in pursuit of the two Catholic lovers; look at how many trumpets blare, how many flutes play, how many drums and tabors sound. I am afraid they will overtake them and bring them back tied to the tail of their own horse, which would be an awful sight.”

  And Don Quixote, seeing and hearing so many Moors and so much clamor, thought it would be a good idea to assist those who were fleeing; and rising to his feet, in a loud voice he said:

  “I shall not consent, in my lifetime and in my presence, to any such offense against an enamored knight so famous and bold as Don Gaiferos. Halt, you lowborn rabble; do not follow and do not pursue him unless you wish to do battle with me!”

  And speaking and taking action, he unsheathed his sword, leaped next to the stage, and with swift and never before seen fury began to rain down blows on the crowd of Moorish puppets, knocking down some, beheading others, ruining this one, destroying that one, and among many other blows, he delivered so powerful a downstroke that if Master Pedro had not stooped, crouched down, and hunched over, he would have cut off his head more easily than if it had been so much marzipan. Master Pedro cried out, saying:

  “Your grace must stop, Señor Don Quixote, and realize that the ones you are overthrowing, destroying, and killing are not real Moors but only pasteboard figures. Sinner that I am, you are destroying and ruining everything I own!”

  But this did not keep Don Quixote from raining down slashes, two-handed blows, thrusts, and backstrokes. In short, in less time than it takes to tell about it, he knocked t
he puppet theater to the floor, all its scenery and figures cut and broken to pieces: King Marsilio was badly wounded, and Emperor Charlemagne’s head and crown were split in two. The audience of spectators was in a tumult, the monkey ran out the window and onto the roof, the cousin was fearful, the page was frightened, and even Sancho Panza was terrified, because, as he swore when the storm was over, he had never seen his master in so wild a fury. When the general destruction of the puppet theater was complete, Don Quixote calmed down somewhat and said:

  “At this moment I should like to have here in front of me all those who do not believe, and do not wish to believe, how much good knights errant do in the world: if I had not been here, just think what would have happened to the worthy Don Gaiferos and the beauteous Melisendra; most certainly, by this time those dogs would have overtaken them and committed some outrage against them. In brief, long live knight errantry, over and above everything in the world today!”

  “Long life and good fortune!” said Master Pedro in a faint voice. “And nothing but death for me, for I am so unfortunate that I can say with King Don Rodrigo:

  Yesterday the lord of all Spain…

  today not even a tower

  that I can call my own.7

  Not half an hour ago, not even half a moment, I was the master of kings and emperors, my stables and coffers and sacks filled with infinite horses and countless treasures, and now I am desolate and dejected, impoverished and a beggar, and worst of all, without my monkey, and by my faith, it will be like pulling teeth to get him back again, and all because of the ill-considered rage of this knight, who, they say, protects orphans, and rights wrongs, and does other charitable works, and in me alone have his generous intentions come to naught, praise be to blessed heaven, where the seats are sublime. In short, the Knight of the Sorrowful Face has certainly brought sorrow to my figures and puppets.”