"God order it as he may," said Sancho Panza, and helping him to risegot him up again on Rocinante, whose shoulder was half out; andthen, discussing the late adventure, they followed the road toPuerto Lapice, for there, said Don Quixote, they could not fail tofind adventures in abundance and variety, as it was a greatthoroughfare. For all that, he was much grieved at the loss of hislance, and saying so to his squire, he added, "I remember havingread how a Spanish knight, Diego Perez de Vargas by name, havingbroken his sword in battle, tore from an oak a ponderous bough orbranch, and with it did such things that day, and pounded so manyMoors, that he got the surname of Machuca, and he and hisdescendants from that day forth were called Vargas y Machuca. Imention this because from the first oak I see I mean to rend suchanother branch, large and stout like that, with which I amdetermined and resolved to do such deeds that thou mayest deem thyselfvery fortunate in being found worthy to come and see them, and be aneyewitness of things that will with difficulty be believed."
"Be that as God will," said Sancho, "I believe it all as yourworship says it; but straighten yourself a little, for you seem all onone side, may be from the shaking of the fall."
"That is the truth," said Don Quixote, "and if I make no complaintof the pain it is because knights-errant are not permitted to complainof any wound, even though their bowels be coming out through it."
"If so," said Sancho, "I have nothing to say; but God knows Iwould rather your worship complained when anything ailed you. For mypart, I confess I must complain however small the ache may be;unless this rule about not complaining extends to the squires ofknights-errant also."
Don Quixote could not help laughing at his squire's simplicity,and he assured him he might complain whenever and however he chose,just as he liked, for, so far, he had never read of anything to thecontrary in the order of knighthood.
Sancho bade him remember it was dinner-time, to which his masteranswered that he wanted nothing himself just then, but that he mighteat when he had a mind. With this permission Sancho settled himself ascomfortably as he could on his beast, and taking out of the alforjaswhat he had stowed away in them, he jogged along behind his mastermunching deliberately, and from time to time taking a pull at the botawith a relish that the thirstiest tapster in Malaga might have envied;and while he went on in this way, gulping down draught afterdraught, he never gave a thought to any of the promises his master hadmade him, nor did he rate it as hardship but rather as recreationgoing in quest of adventures, however dangerous they might be. Finallythey passed the night among some trees, from one of which DonQuixote plucked a dry branch to serve him after a fashion as alance, and fixed on it the head he had removed from the broken one.All that night Don Quixote lay awake thinking of his lady Dulcinea, inorder to conform to what he had read in his books, how many a night inthe forests and deserts knights used to lie sleepless supported by thememory of their mistresses. Not so did Sancho Panza spend it, forhaving his stomach full of something stronger than chicory water hemade but one sleep of it, and, if his master had not called him,neither the rays of the sun beating on his face nor all the cheerynotes of the birds welcoming the approach of day would have hadpower to waken him. On getting up he tried the bota and found itsomewhat less full than the night before, which grieved his heartbecause they did not seem to be on the way to remedy the deficiencyreadily. Don Quixote did not care to break his fast, for, as hasbeen already said, he confined himself to savoury recollections fornourishment.
They returned to the road they had set out with, leading to PuertoLapice, and at three in the afternoon they came in sight of it. "Here,brother Sancho Panza," said Don Quixote when he saw it, "we may plungeour hands up to the elbows in what they call adventures; butobserve, even shouldst thou see me in the greatest danger in theworld, thou must not put a hand to thy sword in my defence, unlessindeed thou perceivest that those who assail me are rabble or basefolk; for in that case thou mayest very properly aid me; but if theybe knights it is on no account permitted or allowed thee by the lawsof knighthood to help me until thou hast been dubbed a knight."
"Most certainly, senor," replied Sancho, "your worship shall befully obeyed in this matter; all the more as of myself I am peacefuland no friend to mixing in strife and quarrels: it is true that asregards the defence of my own person I shall not give much heed tothose laws, for laws human and divine allow each one to defend himselfagainst any assailant whatever."
"That I grant," said Don Quixote, "but in this matter of aiding meagainst knights thou must put a restraint upon thy naturalimpetuosity."
"I will do so, I promise you," answered Sancho, "and will keepthis precept as carefully as Sunday."
While they were thus talking there appeared on the road two friarsof the order of St. Benedict, mounted on two dromedaries, for not lesstall were the two mules they rode on. They wore travellingspectacles and carried sunshades; and behind them came a coachattended by four or five persons on horseback and two muleteers onfoot. In the coach there was, as afterwards appeared, a Biscay lady onher way to Seville, where her husband was about to take passage forthe Indies with an appointment of high honour. The friars, thoughgoing the same road, were not in her company; but the moment DonQuixote perceived them he said to his squire, "Either I am mistaken,or this is going to be the most famous adventure that has ever beenseen, for those black bodies we see there must be, and doubtlessare, magicians who are carrying off some stolen princess in thatcoach, and with all my might I must undo this wrong."
"This will be worse than the windmills," said Sancho. "Look,senor; those are friars of St. Benedict, and the coach plainly belongsto some travellers: I tell you to mind well what you are about anddon't let the devil mislead you."
"I have told thee already, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that onthe subject of adventures thou knowest little. What I say is thetruth, as thou shalt see presently."
So saying, he advanced and posted himself in the middle of theroad along which the friars were coming, and as soon as he thoughtthey had come near enough to hear what he said, he cried aloud,"Devilish and unnatural beings, release instantly the highbornprincesses whom you are carrying off by force in this coach, elseprepare to meet a speedy death as the just punishment of your evildeeds."
The friars drew rein and stood wondering at the appearance of DonQuixote as well as at his words, to which they replied, "SenorCaballero, we are not devilish or unnatural, but two brothers of St.Benedict following our road, nor do we know whether or not there areany captive princesses coming in this coach."
"No soft words with me, for I know you, lying rabble," said DonQuixote, and without waiting for a reply he spurred Rocinante and withlevelled lance charged the first friar with such fury anddetermination, that, if the friar had not flung himself off themule, he would have brought him to the ground against his will, andsore wounded, if not killed outright. The second brother, seeing howhis comrade was treated, drove his heels into his castle of a mule andmade off across the country faster than the wind.
Sancho Panza, when he saw the friar on the ground, dismountingbriskly from his ass, rushed towards him and began to strip off hisgown. At that instant the friars muleteers came up and asked what hewas stripping him for. Sancho answered them that this fell to himlawfully as spoil of the battle which his lord Don Quixote had won.The muleteers, who had no idea of a joke and did not understand allthis about battles and spoils, seeing that Don Quixote was somedistance off talking to the travellers in the coach, fell upon Sancho,knocked him down, and leaving hardly a hair in his beard, belabouredhim with kicks and left him stretched breathless and senseless onthe ground; and without any more delay helped the friar to mount, who,trembling, terrified, and pale, as soon as he found himself in thesaddle, spurred after his companion, who was standing at a distancelooking on, watching the result of the onslaught; then, not caringto wait for the end of the affair just begun, they pursued theirjourney making more crosses than if they had the devil after them.
Don Quixote was, as has been said, speaking to the lady in thecoach: "Your beauty, lady mine," said he, "may now dispose of yourperson as may be most in accordance with your pleasure, for thepride of your ravishers lies prostrate on the ground through thisstrong arm of mine; and lest you should be pining to know the nameof your deliverer, know that I am called Don Quixote of La Mancha,knight-errant and adventurer, and captive to the peerless andbeautiful lady Dulcinea del Toboso: and in return for the serviceyou have received of me I ask no more than that you should return toEl Toboso, and on my behalf present yourself before that lady and tellher what I have done to set you free."
One of the squires in attendance upon the coach, a Biscayan, waslistening to all Don Quixote was saying, and, perceiving that he wouldnot allow the coach to go on, but was saying it must return at once toEl Toboso, he made at him, and seizing his lance addressed him inbad Castilian and worse Biscayan after his fashion, "Begone,caballero, and ill go with thee; by the God that made me, unlessthou quittest coach, slayest thee as art here a Biscayan."