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"I don't see one," said Sancho.

"Wait a bit," said the cook; "sinner that I am! how particular andbashful you are!" and so saying, he seized a bucket and plunging itinto one of the half jars took up three hens and a couple of geese,and said to Sancho, "Fall to, friend, and take the edge off yourappetite with these skimmings until dinner-time comes."

"I have nothing to put them in," said Sancho.

"Well then," said the cook, "take spoon and all; for Camacho'swealth and happiness furnish everything."

While Sancho fared thus, Don Quixote was watching the entrance, atone end of the arcade, of some twelve peasants, all in holiday andgala dress, mounted on twelve beautiful mares with rich handsome fieldtrappings and a number of little bells attached to their petrals, who,marshalled in regular order, ran not one but several courses overthe meadow, with jubilant shouts and cries of "Long live Camacho andQuiteria! he as rich as she is fair; and she the fairest on earth!"

Hearing this, Don Quixote said to himself, "It is easy to seethese folk have never seen my Dulcinea del Toboso; for if they hadthey would be more moderate in their praises of this Quiteria oftheirs."

Shortly after this, several bands of dancers of various sortsbegan to enter the arcade at different points, and among them one ofsword-dancers composed of some four-and-twenty lads of gallant andhigh-spirited mien, clad in the finest and whitest of linen, andwith handkerchiefs embroidered in various colours with fine silk;and one of those on the mares asked an active youth who led them ifany of the dancers had been wounded. "As yet, thank God, no one hasbeen wounded," said he, "we are all safe and sound;" and he at oncebegan to execute complicated figures with the rest of his comrades,with so many turns and so great dexterity, that although Don Quixotewas well used to see dances of the same kind, he thought he hadnever seen any so good as this. He also admired another that came incomposed of fair young maidens, none of whom seemed to be underfourteen or over eighteen years of age, all clad in green stuff,with their locks partly braided, partly flowing loose, but all of suchbright gold as to vie with the sunbeams, and over them they woregarlands of jessamine, roses, amaranth, and honeysuckle. At their headwere a venerable old man and an ancient dame, more brisk and active,however, than might have been expected from their years. The notesof a Zamora bagpipe accompanied them, and with modesty in theircountenances and in their eyes, and lightness in their feet, theylooked the best dancers in the world.

Following these there came an artistic dance of the sort they call"speaking dances." It was composed of eight nymphs in two files,with the god Cupid leading one and Interest the other, the formerfurnished with wings, bow, quiver and arrows, the latter in a richdress of gold and silk of divers colours. The nymphs that followedLove bore their names written on white parchment in large letters ontheir backs. "Poetry" was the name of the first, "Wit" of thesecond, "Birth" of the third, and "Valour" of the fourth. Those thatfollowed Interest were distinguished in the same way; the badge of thefirst announced "Liberality," that of the second "Largess," thethird "Treasure," and the fourth "Peaceful Possession." In front ofthem all came a wooden castle drawn by four wild men, all clad inivy and hemp stained green, and looking so natural that they nearlyterrified Sancho. On the front of the castle and on each of the foursides of its frame it bore the inscription "Castle of Caution." Fourskillful tabor and flute players accompanied them, and the dancehaving been opened, Cupid, after executing two figures, raised hiseyes and bent his bow against a damsel who stood between the turretsof the castle, and thus addressed her:

I am the mighty God whose sway

Is potent over land and sea.

The heavens above us own me; nay,

The shades below acknowledge me.

I know not fear, I have my will,

Whate'er my whim or fancy be;

For me there's no impossible,

I order, bind, forbid, set free.Having concluded the stanza he discharged an arrow at the top of thecastle, and went back to his place. Interest then came forward andwent through two more figures, and as soon as the tabors ceased, hesaid:

But mightier than Love am I,

Though Love it be that leads me on,

Than mine no lineage is more high,

Or older, underneath the sun.

To use me rightly few know how,

To act without me fewer still,

For I am Interest, and I vow

For evermore to do thy will.Interest retired, and Poetry came forward, and when she had gonethrough her figures like the others, fixing her eyes on the damselof the castle, she said:

With many a fanciful conceit,

Fair Lady, winsome Poesy

Her soul, an offering at thy feet,

Presents in sonnets unto thee.

If thou my homage wilt not scorn,

Thy fortune, watched by envious eyes,

On wings of poesy upborne

Shall be exalted to the skies.Poetry withdrew, and on the side of Interest Liberality advanced,and after having gone through her figures, said:

To give, while shunning each extreme,

The sparing hand, the over-free,

Therein consists, so wise men deem,

The virtue Liberality.

But thee, fair lady, to enrich,

Myself a prodigal I'll prove,

A vice not wholly shameful, which

May find its fair excuse in love.

In the same manner all the characters of the two bands advancedand retired, and each executed its figures, and delivered itsverses, some of them graceful, some burlesque, but Don Quixote'smemory (though he had an excellent one) only carried away those thathave been just quoted. All then mingled together, forming chains andbreaking off again with graceful, unconstrained gaiety; and wheneverLove passed in front of the castle he shot his arrows up at it,while Interest broke gilded pellets against it. At length, afterthey had danced a good while, Interest drew out a great purse, made ofthe skin of a large brindled cat and to all appearance full ofmoney, and flung it at the castle, and with the force of the blowthe boards fell asunder and tumbled down, leaving the damsel exposedand unprotected. Interest and the characters of his band advanced, andthrowing a great chain of gold over her neck pretended to take her andlead her away captive, on seeing which, Love and his supporters madeas though they would release her, the whole action being to theaccompaniment of the tabors and in the form of a regular dance. Thewild men made peace between them, and with great dexterityreadjusted and fixed the boards of the castle, and the damsel oncemore ensconced herself within; and with this the dance wound up, tothe great enjoyment of the beholders.

Don Quixote asked one of the nymphs who it was that had composed andarranged it. She replied that it was a beneficiary of the town who hada nice taste in devising things of the sort. "I will lay a wager,"said Don Quixote, "that the same bachelor or beneficiary is agreater friend of Camacho's than of Basilio's, and that he is betterat satire than at vespers; he has introduced the accomplishments ofBasilio and the riches of Camacho very neatly into the dance."Sancho Panza, who was listening to all this, exclaimed, "The king ismy cock; I stick to Camacho." "It is easy to see thou art a clown,Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and one of that sort that cry 'Long lifeto the conqueror.'"

"I don't know of what sort I am," returned Sancho, "but I knowvery well I'll never get such elegant skimmings off Basilio's potsas these I have got off Camacho's;" and he showed him the bucketful ofgeese and hens, and seizing one began to eat with great gaiety andappetite, saying, "A fig for the accomplishments of Basilio! As muchas thou hast so much art thou worth, and as much as thou art worthso much hast thou. As a grandmother of mine used to say, there areonly two families in the world, the Haves and the Haven'ts; and shestuck to the Haves; and to this day, Senor Don Quixote, people wouldsooner feel the pulse of 'Have,' than of 'Know;' an ass covered withgold looks better than a horse with a pack-saddle. So once more Isay I stick to Camacho, the bountiful skimmings of whose pots aregeese and hens, hares and rabbits; but of Basilio's, if any evercome to hand, or even to foot, they'll be only rinsings."

"Hast thou finished thy harangue, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Ofcourse I have finished it," replied Sancho, "because I see yourworship takes offence at it; but if it was not for that, there waswork enough cut out for three days."

"God grant I may see thee dumb before I die, Sancho," said DonQuixote.

"At the rate we are going," said Sancho, "I'll be chewing claybefore your worship dies; and then, maybe, I'll be so dumb that I'llnot say a word until the end of the world, or, at least, till theday of judgment."

"Even should that happen, O Sancho," said Don Quixote, "thysilence will never come up to all thou hast talked, art talking, andwilt talk all thy life; moreover, it naturally stands to reason,that my death will come before thine; so I never expect to see theedumb, not even when thou art drinking or sleeping, and that is theutmost I can say."

"In good faith, senor," replied Sancho, "there's no trusting thatfleshless one, I mean Death, who devours the lamb as soon as thesheep, and, as I have heard our curate say, treads with equal footupon the lofty towers of kings and the lowly huts of the poor. Thatlady is more mighty than dainty, she is no way squeamish, shedevours all and is ready for all, and fills her alforjas with peopleof all sorts, ages, and ranks. She is no reaper that sleeps out thenoontide; at all times she is reaping and cutting down, as well thedry grass as the green; she never seems to chew, but bolts andswallows all that is put before her, for she has a canine appetitethat is never satisfied; and though she has no belly, she shows shehas a dropsy and is athirst to drink the lives of all that live, asone would drink a jug of cold water."

"Say no more, Sancho," said Don Quixote at this; "don't try tobetter it, and risk a fall; for in truth what thou hast said aboutdeath in thy rustic phrase is what a good preacher might have said.I tell thee, Sancho, if thou hadst discretion equal to thy mother wit,thou mightst take a pulpit in hand, and go about the world preachingfine sermons." "He preaches well who lives well," said Sancho, "andI know no more theology than that."

"Nor needst thou," said Don Quixote, "but I cannot conceive ormake out how it is that, the fear of God being the beginning ofwisdom, thou, who art more afraid of a lizard than of him, knowestso much."

"Pass judgment on your chivalries, senor," returned Sancho, "anddon't set yourself up to judge of other men's fears or braveries,for I am as good a fearer of God as my neighbours; but leave me todespatch these skimmings, for all the rest is only idle talk that weshall be called to account for in the other world;" and so saying,he began a fresh attack on the bucket, with such a hearty appetitethat he aroused Don Quixote's, who no doubt would have helped himhad he not been prevented by what must be told farther on.

CHAPTER XXI

IN WHICH CAMACHO'S WEDDING IS CONTINUED, WITH OTHER DELIGHTFULINCIDENTS

WHILE Don Quixote and Sancho were engaged in the discussion setforth the last chapter, they heard loud shouts and a great noise,which were uttered and made by the men on the mares as they went atfull gallop, shouting, to receive the bride and bridegroom, who wereapproaching with musical instruments and pageantry of all sorts aroundthem, and accompanied by the priest and the relatives of both, and allthe most distinguished people of the surrounding villages. When Sanchosaw the bride, he exclaimed, "By my faith, she is not dressed like acountry girl, but like some fine court lady; egad, as well as I canmake out, the patena she wears rich coral, and her green Cuencastuff is thirty-pile velvet; and then the white linen trimming- bymy oath, but it's satin! Look at her hands- jet rings on them! May Inever have luck if they're not gold rings, and real gold, and set withpearls as white as a curdled milk, and every one of them worth aneye of one's head! Whoreson baggage, what hair she has! if it's nota wig, I never saw longer or fairer all the days of my life. See howbravely she bears herself- and her shape! Wouldn't you say she waslike a walking palm tree loaded with clusters of dates? for thetrinkets she has hanging from her hair and neck look just like them. Iswear in my heart she is a brave lass, and fit 'to pass over the banksof Flanders.'"

Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's boorish eulogies and thought that,saving his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he had never seen a morebeautiful woman. The fair Quiteria appeared somewhat pale, whichwas, no doubt, because of the bad night brides always pass dressingthemselves out for their wedding on the morrow. They advancedtowards a theatre that stood on one side of the meadow decked withcarpets and boughs, where they were to plight their troth, and fromwhich they were to behold the dances and plays; but at the moment oftheir arrival at the spot they heard a loud outcry behind them, anda voice exclaiming, "Wait a little, ye, as inconsiderate as ye arehasty!" At these words all turned round, and perceived that thespeaker was a man clad in what seemed to be a loose black coatgarnished with crimson patches like flames. He was crowned (as waspresently seen) with a crown of gloomy cypress, and in his hand heheld a long staff. As he approached he was recognised by everyone asthe gay Basilio, and all waited anxiously to see what would come ofhis words, in dread of some catastrophe in consequence of hisappearance at such a moment. He came up at last weary andbreathless, and planting himself in front of the bridal pair, drovehis staff, which had a steel spike at the end, into the ground, and,with a pale face and eyes fixed on Quiteria, he thus addressed herin a hoarse, trembling voice:

"Well dost thou know, ungrateful Quiteria, that according to theholy law we acknowledge, so long as live thou canst take no husband;nor art thou ignorant either that, in my hopes that time and my ownexertions would improve my fortunes, I have never failed to observethe respect due to thy honour; but thou, casting behind thee allthou owest to my true love, wouldst surrender what is mine toanother whose wealth serves to bring him not only good fortune butsupreme happiness; and now to complete it (not that I think hedeserves it, but inasmuch as heaven is pleased to bestow it upon him),I will, with my own hands, do away with the obstacle that mayinterfere with it, and remove myself from between you. Long live therich Camacho! many a happy year may he live with the ungratefulQuiteria! and let the poor Basilio die, Basilio whose povertyclipped the wings of his happiness, and brought him to the grave!"