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At this, Don Quixote, turning to Sancho, said, "Did I not tell thee,Sancho, there would be squires enough and to spare for me? See now whooffers to become one; no less than the illustrious bachelor SamsonCarrasco, the perpetual joy and delight of the courts of theSalamancan schools, sound in body, discreet, patient under heat orcold, hunger or thirst, with all the qualifications requisite tomake a knight-errant's squire! But heaven forbid that, to gratify myown inclination, I should shake or shatter this pillar of lettersand vessel of the sciences, and cut down this towering palm of thefair and liberal arts. Let this new Samson remain in his owncountry, and, bringing honour to it, bring honour at the same timeon the grey heads of his venerable parents; for I will be content withany squire that comes to hand, as Sancho does not deign to accompanyme."

"I do deign," said Sancho, deeply moved and with tears in hiseyes; "it shall not be said of me, master mine," he continued, "'thebread eaten and the company dispersed.' Nay, I come of no ungratefulstock, for all the world knows, but particularly my own town, whothe Panzas from whom I am descended were; and, what is more, I knowand have learned, by many good words and deeds, your worship'sdesire to show me favour; and if I have been bargaining more or lessabout my wages, it was only to please my wife, who, when she setsherself to press a point, no hammer drives the hoops of a cask asshe drives one to do what she wants; but, after all, a man must be aman, and a woman a woman; and as I am a man anyhow, which I can'tdeny, I will be one in my own house too, let who will take it amiss;and so there's nothing more to do but for your worship to make yourwill with its codicil in such a way that it can't be provoked, and letus set out at once, to save Senor Samson's soul from suffering, ashe says his conscience obliges him to persuade your worship to sallyout upon the world a third time; so I offer again to serve yourworship faithfully and loyally, as well and better than all thesquires that served knights-errant in times past or present."

The bachelor was filled with amazement when he heard Sancho'sphraseology and style of talk, for though he had read the first partof his master's history he never thought that he could be so drollas he was there described; but now, hearing him talk of a "will andcodicil that could not be provoked," instead of "will and codicil thatcould not be revoked," he believed all he had read of him, and set himdown as one of the greatest simpletons of modern times; and he said tohimself that two such lunatics as master and man the world had neverseen. In fine, Don Quixote and Sancho embraced one another and madefriends, and by the advice and with the approval of the greatCarrasco, who was now their oracle, it was arranged that theirdeparture should take place three days thence, by which time theycould have all that was requisite for the journey ready, and procure aclosed helmet, which Don Quixote said he must by all means take.Samson offered him one, as he knew a friend of his who had it wouldnot refuse it to him, though it was more dingy with rust and mildewthan bright and clean like burnished steel.

The curses which both housekeeper and niece poured out on thebachelor were past counting; they tore their hair, they clawed theirfaces, and in the style of the hired mourners that were once infashion, they raised a lamentation over the departure of theirmaster and uncle, as if it had been his death. Samson's intention inpersuading him to sally forth once more was to do what the historyrelates farther on; all by the advice of the curate and barber, withwhom he had previously discussed the subject. Finally, then, duringthose three days, Don Quixote and Sancho provided themselves with whatthey considered necessary, and Sancho having pacified his wife, andDon Quixote his niece and housekeeper, at nightfall, unseen byanyone except the bachelor, who thought fit to accompany them half aleague out of the village, they set out for El Toboso, Don Quixoteon his good Rocinante and Sancho on his old Dapple, his alforjasfurnished with certain matters in the way of victuals, and his pursewith money that Don Quixote gave him to meet emergencies. Samsonembraced him, and entreated him to let him hear of his good or evilfortunes, so that he might rejoice over the former or condole with himover the latter, as the laws of friendship required. Don Quixotepromised him he would do so, and Samson returned to the village, andthe other two took the road for the great city of El Toboso.

CHAPTER VIII

WHEREIN IS RELATED WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TO SEE HISLADY DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO

"BLESSED be Allah the all-powerful!" says Hamete Benengeli onbeginning this eighth chapter; "blessed be Allah!" he repeats threetimes; and he says he utters these thanksgivings at seeing that he hasnow got Don Quixote and Sancho fairly afield, and that the readersof his delightful history may reckon that the achievements and humoursof Don Quixote and his squire are now about to begin; and he urgesthem to forget the former chivalries of the ingenious gentleman and tofix their eyes on those that are to come, which now begin on theroad to El Toboso, as the others began on the plains of Montiel; noris it much that he asks in consideration of all he promises, and so hegoes on to say:

Don Quixote and Sancho were left alone, and the moment Samson tookhis departure, Rocinante began to neigh, and Dapple to sigh, which, byboth knight and squire, was accepted as a good sign and a very happyomen; though, if the truth is to be told, the sighs and brays ofDapple were louder than the neighings of the hack, from which Sanchoinferred that his good fortune was to exceed and overtop that of hismaster, building, perhaps, upon some judicial astrology that he mayhave known, though the history says nothing about it; all that canbe said is, that when he stumbled or fell, he was heard to say hewished he had not come out, for by stumbling or falling there wasnothing to be got but a damaged shoe or a broken rib; and, fool ashe was, he was not much astray in this.

Said Don Quixote, "Sancho, my friend, night is drawing on upon us aswe go, and more darkly than will allow us to reach El Toboso bydaylight; for there I am resolved to go before I engage in anotheradventure, and there I shall obtain the blessing and generouspermission of the peerless Dulcinea, with which permission I expectand feel assured that I shall conclude and bring to a happytermination every perilous adventure; for nothing in life makesknights-errant more valorous than finding themselves favoured by theirladies."

"So I believe," replied Sancho; "but I think it will be difficultfor your worship to speak with her or see her, at any rate where youwill be able to receive her blessing; unless, indeed, she throws itover the wall of the yard where I saw her the time before, when I tookher the letter that told of the follies and mad things your worshipwas doing in the heart of Sierra Morena."

"Didst thou take that for a yard wall, Sancho," said Don Quixote,"where or at which thou sawest that never sufficiently extolledgrace and beauty? It must have been the gallery, corridor, orportico of some rich and royal palace."

"It might have been all that," returned Sancho, "but to me it lookedlike a wall, unless I am short of memory."

"At all events, let us go there, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for, sothat I see her, it is the same to me whether it be over a wall, orat a window, or through the chink of a door, or the grate of a garden;for any beam of the sun of her beauty that reaches my eyes will givelight to my reason and strength to my heart, so that I shall beunmatched and unequalled in wisdom and valour."

"Well, to tell the truth, senor," said Sancho, "when I saw thatsun of the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, it was not bright enough to throwout beams at all; it must have been, that as her grace was siftingthat wheat I told you of, the thick dust she raised came before herface like a cloud and dimmed it."

"What! dost thou still persist, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "insaying, thinking, believing, and maintaining that my lady Dulcinea wassifting wheat, that being an occupation and task entirely atvariance with what is and should be the employment of persons ofdistinction, who are constituted and reserved for other avocations andpursuits that show their rank a bowshot off? Thou hast forgotten, OSancho, those lines of our poet wherein he paints for us how, in theircrystal abodes, those four nymphs employed themselves who rose fromtheir loved Tagus and seated themselves in a verdant meadow toembroider those tissues which the ingenious poet there describes tous, how they were worked and woven with gold and silk and pearls;and something of this sort must have been the employment of my ladywhen thou sawest her, only that the spite which some wickedenchanter seems to have against everything of mine changes all thosethings that give me pleasure, and turns them into shapes unliketheir own; and so I fear that in that history of my achievements whichthey say is now in print, if haply its author was some sage who isan enemy of mine, he will have put one thing for another, mingling athousand lies with one truth, and amusing himself by relatingtransactions which have nothing to do with the sequence of a truehistory. O envy, root of all countless evils, and cankerworm of thevirtues! All the vices, Sancho, bring some kind of pleasure with them;but envy brings nothing but irritation, bitterness, and rage."

"So I say too," replied Sancho; "and I suspect in that legend orhistory of us that the bachelor Samson Carrasco told us he saw, myhonour goes dragged in the dirt, knocked about, up and down,sweeping the streets, as they say. And yet, on the faith of anhonest man, I never spoke ill of any enchanter, and I am not so welloff that I am to be envied; to be sure, I am rather sly, and I havea certain spice of the rogue in me; but all is covered by the greatcloak of my simplicity, always natural and never acted; and if I hadno other merit save that I believe, as I always do, firmly and trulyin God, and all the holy Roman Catholic Church holds and believes, andthat I am a mortal enemy of the Jews, the historians ought to havemercy on me and treat me well in their writings. But let them say whatthey like; naked was I born, naked I find myself, I neither lose norgain; nay, while I see myself put into a book and passed on fromhand to hand over the world, I don't care a fig, let them say whatthey like of me."

"That, Sancho," returned Don Quixote, "reminds me of what happenedto a famous poet of our own day, who, having written a bitter satireagainst all the courtesan ladies, did not insert or name in it acertain lady of whom it was questionable whether she was one or not.She, seeing she was not in the list of the poet, asked him what he hadseen in her that he did not include her in the number of the others,telling him he must add to his satire and put her in the new part,or else look out for the consequences. The poet did as she bade him,and left her without a shred of reputation, and she was satisfied bygetting fame though it was infamy. In keeping with this is what theyrelate of that shepherd who set fire to the famous temple of Diana, byrepute one of the seven wonders of the world, and burned it with thesole object of making his name live in after ages; and, though itwas forbidden to name him, or mention his name by word of mouth orin writing, lest the object of his ambition should be attained,nevertheless it became known that he was called Erostratus. Andsomething of the same sort is what happened in the case of the greatemperor Charles V and a gentleman in Rome. The emperor was anxiousto see that famous temple of the Rotunda, called in ancient timesthe temple 'of all the gods,' but now-a-days, by a betternomenclature, 'of all the saints,' which is the best preservedbuilding of all those of pagan construction in Rome, and the one whichbest sustains the reputation of mighty works and magnificence of itsfounders. It is in the form of a half orange, of enormousdimensions, and well lighted, though no light penetrates it savethat which is admitted by a window, or rather round skylight, at thetop; and it was from this that the emperor examined the building. ARoman gentleman stood by his side and explained to him the skilfulconstruction and ingenuity of the vast fabric and its wonderfularchitecture, and when they had left the skylight he said to theemperor, 'A thousand times, your Sacred Majesty, the impulse came uponme to seize your Majesty in my arms and fling myself down fromyonder skylight, so as to leave behind me in the world a name thatwould last for ever.' 'I am thankful to you for not carrying such anevil thought into effect,' said the emperor, 'and I shall give youno opportunity in future of again putting your loyalty to the test;and I therefore forbid you ever to speak to me or to be where I am;and he followed up these words by bestowing a liberal bounty upon him.My meaning is, Sancho, that the desire of acquiring fame is a verypowerful motive. What, thinkest thou, was it that flung Horatius infull armour down from the bridge into the depths of the Tiber? Whatburned the hand and arm of Mutius? What impelled Curtius to plungeinto the deep burning gulf that opened in the midst of Rome? What,in opposition to all the omens that declared against him, madeJulius Caesar cross the Rubicon? And to come to more modernexamples, what scuttled the ships, and left stranded and cut off thegallant Spaniards under the command of the most courteous Cortes inthe New World? All these and a variety of other great exploits are,were and will be, the work of fame that mortals desire as a reward anda portion of the immortality their famous deeds deserve; though weCatholic Christians and knights-errant look more to that futureglory that is everlasting in the ethereal regions of heaven than tothe vanity of the fame that is to be acquired in this presenttransitory life; a fame that, however long it may last, must after allend with the world itself, which has its own appointed end. So that, OSancho, in what we do we must not overpass the bounds which theChristian religion we profess has assigned to us. We have to slaypride in giants, envy by generosity and nobleness of heart, anger bycalmness of demeanour and equanimity, gluttony and sloth by thespareness of our diet and the length of our vigils, lust andlewdness by the loyalty we preserve to those whom we have made themistresses of our thoughts, indolence by traversing the world in alldirections seeking opportunities of making ourselves, besidesChristians, famous knights. Such, Sancho, are the means by which wereach those extremes of praise that fair fame carries with it."