To proceed, then: after having paid a visit to his team and given them

their second feed, the carrier stretched himself on his pack-saddles and

lay waiting for his conscientious Maritornes. Sancho was by this time

plastered and had lain down, and though he strove to sleep the pain of

his ribs would not let him, while Don Quixote with the pain of his had

his eyes as wide open as a hare's.

The inn was all in silence, and in the whole of it there was no light

except that given by a lantern that hung burning in the middle of the

gateway. This strange stillness, and the thoughts, always present to our

knight's mind, of the incidents described at every turn in the books that

were the cause of his misfortune, conjured up to his imagination as

extraordinary a delusion as can well be conceived, which was that he

fancied himself to have reached a famous castle (for, as has been said,

all the inns he lodged in were castles to his eyes), and that the

daughter of the innkeeper was daughter of the lord of the castle, and

that she, won by his high-bred bearing, had fallen in love with him, and

had promised to come to his bed for a while that night without the

knowledge of her parents; and holding all this fantasy that he had

constructed as solid fact, he began to feel uneasy and to consider the

perilous risk which his virtue was about to encounter, and he resolved in

his heart to commit no treason to his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, even

though the queen Guinevere herself and the dame Quintanona should present

themselves before him.

While he was taken up with these vagaries, then, the time and the

hour--an unlucky one for him--arrived for the Asturian to come, who in

her smock, with bare feet and her hair gathered into a fustian coif, with

noiseless and cautious steps entered the chamber where the three were

quartered, in quest of the carrier; but scarcely had she gained the door

when Don Quixote perceived her, and sitting up in his bed in spite of his

plasters and the pain of his ribs, he stretched out his arms to receive

his beauteous damsel. The Asturian, who went all doubled up and in

silence with her hands before her feeling for her lover, encountered the

arms of Don Quixote, who grasped her tightly by the wrist, and drawing

her towards him, while she dared not utter a word, made her sit down on

the bed. He then felt her smock, and although it was of sackcloth it

appeared to him to be of the finest and softest silk: on her wrists she

wore some glass beads, but to him they had the sheen of precious Orient

pearls: her hair, which in some measure resembled a horse's mane, he

rated as threads of the brightest gold of Araby, whose refulgence dimmed

the sun himself: her breath, which no doubt smelt of yesterday's stale

salad, seemed to him to diffuse a sweet aromatic fragrance from her

mouth; and, in short, he drew her portrait in his imagination with the

same features and in the same style as that which he had seen in his

books of the other princesses who, smitten by love, came with all the

adornments that are here set down, to see the sorely wounded knight; and

so great was the poor gentleman's blindness that neither touch, nor

smell, nor anything else about the good lass that would have made any but

a carrier vomit, were enough to undeceive him; on the contrary, he was

persuaded he had the goddess of beauty in his arms, and holding her

firmly in his grasp he went on to say in low, tender voice:




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