eBooks Cube
 
CHAPTER XXXV

WHICH TREATS OF THE HEROIC AND PRODIGIOUS BATTLE DON QUIXOTE HAD
WITH CERTAIN SKINS OF RED WINE, AND BRINGS THE NOVEL OF "THE
ILL-ADVISED CURIOSITY" TO A CLOSE

There remained but little more of the novel to be read, when
Sancho Panza burst forth in wild excitement from the garret where
Don Quixote was lying, shouting, "Run, sirs! quick; and help my
master, who is in the thick of the toughest and stiffest battle I ever
laid eyes on. By the living God he has given the giant, the enemy of
my lady the Princess Micomicona, such a slash that he has sliced his
head clean off as if it were a turnip."

"What are you talking about, brother?" said the curate, pausing as
he was about to read the remainder of the novel. "Are you in your
senses, Sancho? How the devil can it be as you say, when the giant
is two thousand leagues away?"

Here they heard a loud noise in the chamber, and Don Quixote
shouting out, "Stand, thief, brigand, villain; now I have got thee,
and thy scimitar shall not avail thee!" And then it seemed as though
he were slashing vigorously at the wall.

"Don't stop to listen," said Sancho, "but go in and part them or
help my master: though there is no need of that now, for no doubt
the giant is dead by this time and giving account to God of his past
wicked life; for I saw the blood flowing on the ground, and the head
cut off and fallen on one side, and it is as big as a large
wine-skin."

"May I die," said the landlord at this, "if Don Quixote or Don Devil
has not been slashing some of the skins of red wine that stand full at
his bed's head, and the spilt wine must be what this good fellow takes
for blood;" and so saying he went into the room and the rest after
him, and there they found Don Quixote in the strangest costume in
the world. He was in his shirt, which was not long enough in front
to cover his thighs completely and was six fingers shorter behind; his
legs were very long and lean, covered with hair, and anything but
clean; on his head he had a little greasy red cap that belonged to the
host, round his left arm he had rolled the blanket of the bed, to
which Sancho, for reasons best known to himself, owed a grudge, and in
his right hand he held his unsheathed sword, with which he was
slashing about on all sides, uttering exclamations as if he were
actually fighting some giant: and the best of it was his eyes were not
open, for he was fast asleep, and dreaming that he was doing battle
with the giant. For his imagination was so wrought upon by the
adventure he was going to accomplish, that it made him dream he had
already reached the kingdom of Micomicon, and was engaged in combat
with his enemy; and believing he was laying on the giant, he had given
so many sword cuts to the skins that the whole room was full of
wine. On seeing this the landlord was so enraged that he fell on Don
Quixote, and with his clenched fist began to pummel him in such a way,
that if Cardenio and the curate had not dragged him off, he would have
brought the war of the giant to an end. But in spite of all the poor
gentleman never woke until the barber brought a great pot of cold
water from the well and flung it with one dash all over his body, on
which Don Quixote woke up, but not so completely as to understand what
was the matter. Dorothea, seeing how short and slight his attire
was, would not go in to witness the battle between her champion and
her opponent. As for Sancho, he went searching all over the floor
for the head of the giant, and not finding it he said, "I see now that
it's all enchantment in this house; for the last time, on this very
spot where I am now, I got ever so many thumps without knowing who
gave them to me, or being able to see anybody; and now this head is
not to be seen anywhere about, though I saw it cut off with my own
eyes and the blood running from the body as if from a fountain."

"What blood and fountains are you talking about, enemy of God and
his saints?" said the landlord. "Don't you see, you thief, that the
blood and the fountain are only these skins here that have been
stabbed and the red wine swimming all over the room?- and I wish I saw
the soul of him that stabbed them swimming in hell."

"I know nothing about that," said Sancho; "all I know is it will
be my bad luck that through not finding this head my county will
melt away like salt in water;"- for Sancho awake was worse than his
master asleep, so much had his master's promises addled his wits.

The landlord was beside himself at the coolness of the squire and
the mischievous doings of the master, and swore it should not be
like the last time when they went without paying; and that their
privileges of chivalry should not hold good this time to let one or
other of them off without paying, even to the cost of the plugs that
would have to be put to the damaged wine-skins. The curate was holding
Don Quixote's hands, who, fancying he had now ended the adventure
and was in the presence of the Princess Micomicona, knelt before the
curate and said, "Exalted and beauteous lady, your highness may live
from this day forth fearless of any harm this base being could do you;
and I too from this day forth am released from the promise I gave you,
since by the help of God on high and by the favour of her by whom I
live and breathe, I have fulfilled it so successfully."

"Did not I say so?" said Sancho on hearing this. "You see I wasn't
drunk; there you see my master has already salted the giant; there's
no doubt about the bulls; my county is all right!"

Who could have helped laughing at the absurdities of the pair,
master and man? And laugh they did, all except the landlord, who
cursed himself; but at length the barber, Cardenio, and the curate
contrived with no small trouble to get Don Quixote on the bed, and
he fell asleep with every appearance of excessive weariness. They left
him to sleep, and came out to the gate of the inn to console Sancho
Panza on not having found the head of the giant; but much more work
had they to appease the landlord, who was furious at the sudden
death of his wine-skins; and said the landlady half scolding, half
crying, "At an evil moment and in an unlucky hour he came into my
house, this knight-errant- would that I had never set eyes on him, for
dear he has cost me; the last time he went off with the overnight
score against him for supper, bed, straw, and barley, for himself
and his squire and a hack and an ass, saying he was a knight
adventurer- God send unlucky adventures to him and all the adventurers
in the world- and therefore not bound to pay anything, for it was so
settled by the knight-errantry tariff: and then, all because of him,
came the other gentleman and carried off my tail, and gives it back
more than two cuartillos the worse, all stripped of its hair, so
that it is no use for my husband's purpose; and then, for a
finishing touch to all, to burst my wine-skins and spill my wine! I
wish I saw his own blood spilt! But let him not deceive himself,
for, by the bones of my father and the shade of my mother, they
shall pay me down every quarts; or my name is not what it is, and I am
not my father's daughter." All this and more to the same effect the
landlady delivered with great irritation, and her good maid Maritornes
backed her up, while the daughter held her peace and smiled from
time to time. The curate smoothed matters by promising to make good
all losses to the best of his power, not only as regarded the
wine-skins but also the wine, and above all the depreciation of the
tail which they set such store by. Dorothea comforted Sancho,
telling him that she pledged herself, as soon as it should appear
certain that his master had decapitated the giant, and she found
herself peacefully established in her kingdom, to bestow upon him
the best county there was in it. With this Sancho consoled himself,
and assured the princess she might rely upon it that he had seen the
head of the giant, and more by token it had a beard that reached to
the girdle, and that if it was not to be seen now it was because
everything that happened in that house went by enchantment, as he
himself had proved the last time he had lodged there. Dorothea said
she fully believed it, and that he need not be uneasy, for all would
go well and turn out as he wished. All therefore being appeased, the
curate was anxious to go on with the novel, as he saw there was but
little more left to read. Dorothea and the others begged him to finish
it, and he, as he was willing to please them, and enjoyed reading it
himself, continued the tale in these words:


The result was, that from the confidence Anselmo felt in Camilla's
virtue, he lived happy and free from anxiety, and Camilla purposely
looked coldly on Lothario, that Anselmo might suppose her feelings
towards him to be the opposite of what they were; and the better to
support the position, Lothario begged to be excused from coming to the
house, as the displeasure with which Camilla regarded his presence was
plain to be seen. But the befooled Anselmo said he would on no account
allow such a thing, and so in a thousand ways he became the author
of his own dishonour, while he believed he was insuring his happiness.
Meanwhile the satisfaction with which Leonela saw herself empowered to
carry on her amour reached such a height that, regardless of
everything else, she followed her inclinations unrestrainedly, feeling
confident that her mistress would screen her, and even show her how to
manage it safely. At last one night Anselmo heard footsteps in
Leonela's room, and on trying to enter to see who it was, he found
that the door was held against him, which made him all the more
determined to open it; and exerting his strength he forced it open,
and entered the room in time to see a man leaping through the window
into the street. He ran quickly to seize him or discover who he was,
but he was unable to effect either purpose, for Leonela flung her arms
round him crying, "Be calm, senor; do not give way to passion or
follow him who has escaped from this; he belongs to me, and in fact he
is my husband."

Anselmo would not believe it, but blind with rage drew a dagger
and threatened to stab Leonela, bidding her tell the truth or he would
kill her. She, in her fear, not knowing what she was saying,
exclaimed, "Do not kill me, senor, for I can tell you things more
important than any you can imagine."

"Tell me then at once or thou diest," said Anselmo.

"It would be impossible for me now," said Leonela, "I am so
agitated: leave me till to-morrow, and then you shall hear from me
what will fill you with astonishment; but rest assured that he who
leaped through the window is a young man of this city, who has given
me his promise to become my husband."

Anselmo was appeased with this, and was content to wait the time she
asked of him, for he never expected to hear anything against
Camilla, so satisfied and sure of her virtue was he; and so he quitted
the room, and left Leonela locked in, telling her she should not
come out until she had told him all she had to make known to him. He
went at once to see Camilla, and tell her, as he did, all that had
passed between him and her handmaid, and the promise she had given him
to inform him matters of serious importance.

There is no need of saying whether Camilla was agitated or not,
for so great was her fear and dismay, that, making sure, as she had
good reason to do, that Leonela would tell Anselmo all she knew of her
faithlessness, she had not the courage to wait and see if her
suspicions were confirmed; and that same night, as soon as she thought
that Anselmo was asleep, she packed up the most valuable jewels she
had and some money, and without being observed by anybody escaped from
the house and betook herself to Lothario's, to whom she related what
had occurred, imploring him to convey her to some place of safety or
fly with her where they might be safe from Anselmo. The state of
perplexity to which Camilla reduced Lothario was such that he was
unable to utter a word in reply, still less to decide upon what he
should do. At length he resolved to conduct her to a convent of
which a sister of his was prioress; Camilla agreed to this, and with
the speed which the circumstances demanded, Lothario took her to the
convent and left her there, and then himself quitted the city
without letting anyone know of his departure.

As soon as daylight came Anselmo, without missing Camilla from his
side, rose cager to learn what Leonela had to tell him, and hastened
to the room where he had locked her in. He opened the door, entered,
but found no Leonela; all he found was some sheets knotted to the
window, a plain proof that she had let herself down from it and
escaped. He returned, uneasy, to tell Camilla, but not finding her
in bed or anywhere in the house he was lost in amazement. He asked the
servants of the house about her, but none of them could give him any
explanation. As he was going in search of Camilla it happened by
chance that he observed her boxes were lying open, and that the
greater part of her jewels were gone; and now he became fully aware of
his disgrace, and that Leonela was not the cause of his misfortune;
and, just as he was, without delaying to dress himself completely,
he repaired, sad at heart and dejected, to his friend Lothario to make
known his sorrow to him; but when he failed to find him and the
servants reported that he had been absent from his house all night and
had taken with him all the money he had, he felt as though he were
losing his senses; and to make all complete on returning to his own
house he found it deserted and empty, not one of all his servants,
male or female, remaining in it. He knew not what to think, or say, or
do, and his reason seemed to be deserting him little by little. He
reviewed his position, and saw himself in a moment left without
wife, friend, or servants, abandoned, he felt, by the heaven above
him, and more than all robbed of his honour, for in Camilla's
disappearance he saw his own ruin. After long reflection he resolved
at last to go to his friend's village, where he had been staying
when he afforded opportunities for the contrivance of this
complication of misfortune. He locked the doors of his house,
mounted his horse, and with a broken spirit set out on his journey;
but he had hardly gone half-way when, harassed by his reflections,
he had to dismount and tie his horse to a tree, at the foot of which
he threw himself, giving vent to piteous heartrending sighs; and there
he remained till nearly nightfall, when he observed a man
approaching on horseback from the city, of whom, after saluting him,
he asked what was the news in Florence.

The citizen replied, "The strangest that have been heard for many
a day; for it is reported abroad that Lothario, the great friend of
the wealthy Anselmo, who lived at San Giovanni, carried off last night
Camilla, the wife of Anselmo, who also has disappeared. All this has
been told by a maid-servant of Camilla's, whom the governor found last
night lowering herself by a sheet from the windows of Anselmo's house.
I know not indeed, precisely, how the affair came to pass; all I
know is that the whole city is wondering at the occurrence, for no one
could have expected a thing of the kind, seeing the great and intimate
friendship that existed between them, so great, they say, that they
were called 'The Two Friends.'"

"Is it known at all," said Anselmo, "what road Lothario and
Camilla took?"

"Not in the least," said the citizen, "though the governor has
been very active in searching for them."

"God speed you, senor," said Anselmo.

"God be with you," said the citizen and went his way.

This disastrous intelligence almost robbed Anselmo not only of his
senses but of his life. He got up as well as he was able and reached
the house of his friend, who as yet knew nothing of his misfortune,
but seeing him come pale, worn, and haggard, perceived that he was
suffering some heavy affliction. Anselmo at once begged to be
allowed to retire to rest, and to be given writing materials. His wish
was complied with and he was left lying down and alone, for he desired
this, and even that the door should be locked. Finding himself alone
he so took to heart the thought of his misfortune that by the signs of
death he felt within him he knew well his life was drawing to a close,
and therefore he resolved to leave behind him a declaration of the
cause of his strange end. He began to write, but before he had put
down all he meant to say, his breath failed him and he yielded up
his life, a victim to the suffering which his ill-advised curiosity
had entailed upon him. The master of the house observing that it was
now late and that Anselmo did not call, determined to go in and
ascertain if his indisposition was increasing, and found him lying
on his face, his body partly in the bed, partly on the
writing-table, on which he lay with the written paper open and the pen
still in his hand. Having first called to him without receiving any
answer, his host approached him, and taking him by the hand, found
that it was cold, and saw that he was dead. Greatly surprised and
distressed he summoned the household to witness the sad fate which had
befallen Anselmo; and then he read the paper, the handwriting of which
he recognised as his, and which contained these words:

"A foolish and ill-advised desire has robbed me of life. If the news
of my death should reach the ears of Camilla, let her know that I
forgive her, for she was not bound to perform miracles, nor ought I to
have required her to perform them; and since I have been the author of
my own dishonour, there is no reason why-"

So far Anselmo had written, and thus it was plain that at this
point, before he could finish what he had to say, his life came to
an end. The next day his friend sent intelligence of his death to
his relatives, who had already ascertained his misfortune, as well
as the convent where Camilla lay almost on the point of accompanying
her husband on that inevitable journey, not on account of the
tidings of his death, but because of those she received of her lover's
departure. Although she saw herself a widow, it is said she refused
either to quit the convent or take the veil, until, not long
afterwards, intelligence reached her that Lothario had been killed
in a battle in which M. de Lautrec had been recently engaged with
the Great Captain Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordova in the kingdom of
Naples, whither her too late repentant lover had repaired. On learning
this Camilla took the veil, and shortly afterwards died, worn out by
grief and melancholy. This was the end of all three, an end that
came of a thoughtless beginning.


"I like this novel," said the curate; "but I cannot persuade
myself of its truth; and if it has been invented, the author's
invention is faulty, for it is impossible to imagine any husband so
foolish as to try such a costly experiment as Anselmo's. If it had
been represented as occurring between a gallant and his mistress it
might pass; but between husband and wife there is something of an
impossibility about it. As to the way in which the story is told,
however, I have no fault to find."




Don Quixote by Migeul de Cervantes
Category:
Romance Literature - Spanish
Nabou.com: the big site