"I shall not be surprised at anything of the kind," returned Don Quixote;
"for if thou dost remember the last time we were here I told thee that
everything that happened here was a matter of enchantment, and it would
be no wonder if it were the same now."
"I could believe all that," replied Sancho, "if my blanketing was the
same sort of thing also; only it wasn't, but real and genuine; for I saw
the landlord, Who is here to-day, holding one end of the blanket and
jerking me up to the skies very neatly and smartly, and with as much
laughter as strength; and when it comes to be a case of knowing people, I
hold for my part, simple and sinner as I am, that there is no enchantment
about it at all, but a great deal of bruising and bad luck."
"Well, well, God will give a remedy," said Don Quixote; "hand me my
clothes and let me go out, for I want to see these transformations and
things thou speakest of."
Sancho fetched him his clothes; and while he was dressing, the curate
gave Don Fernando and the others present an account of Don Quixote's
madness and of the stratagem they had made use of to withdraw him from
that Pena Pobre where he fancied himself stationed because of his lady's
scorn. He described to them also nearly all the adventures that Sancho
had mentioned, at which they marvelled and laughed not a little, thinking
it, as all did, the strangest form of madness a crazy intellect could be
capable of. But now, the curate said, that the lady Dorothea's good
fortune prevented her from proceeding with their purpose, it would be
necessary to devise or discover some other way of getting him home.
Cardenio proposed to carry out the scheme they had begun, and suggested
that Luscinda would act and support Dorothea's part sufficiently well.
"No," said Don Fernando, "that must not be, for I want Dorothea to follow
out this idea of hers; and if the worthy gentleman's village is not very
far off, I shall be happy if I can do anything for his relief."
"It is not more than two days' journey from this," said the curate.
"Even if it were more," said Don Fernando, "I would gladly travel so far
for the sake of doing so good a work.
"At this moment Don Quixote came out in full panoply, with Mambrino's
helmet, all dinted as it was, on his head, his buckler on his arm, and
leaning on his staff or pike. The strange figure he presented filled Don
Fernando and the rest with amazement as they contemplated his lean yellow
face half a league long, his armour of all sorts, and the solemnity of
his deportment. They stood silent waiting to see what he would say, and
he, fixing his eyes on the air Dorothea, addressed her with great gravity
and composure: