WHICH DEALS WITH WHAT THE GOATHERD TOLD THOSE WHO WERE CARRYING OFF DON

QUIXOTE

Three leagues from this valley there is a village which, though small, is

one of the richest in all this neighbourhood, and in it there lived a

farmer, a very worthy man, and so much respected that, although to be so

is the natural consequence of being rich, he was even more respected for

his virtue than for the wealth he had acquired. But what made him still

more fortunate, as he said himself, was having a daughter of such

exceeding beauty, rare intelligence, gracefulness, and virtue, that

everyone who knew her and beheld her marvelled at the extraordinary gifts

with which heaven and nature had endowed her. As a child she was

beautiful, she continued to grow in beauty, and at the age of sixteen she

was most lovely. The fame of her beauty began to spread abroad through

all the villages around--but why do I say the villages around, merely,

when it spread to distant cities, and even made its way into the halls of

royalty and reached the ears of people of every class, who came from all

sides to see her as if to see something rare and curious, or some

wonder-working image?

Her father watched over her and she watched over herself; for there are

no locks, or guards, or bolts that can protect a young girl better than

her own modesty. The wealth of the father and the beauty of the daughter

led many neighbours as well as strangers to seek her for a wife; but he,

as one might well be who had the disposal of so rich a jewel, was

perplexed and unable to make up his mind to which of her countless

suitors he should entrust her. I was one among the many who felt a desire

so natural, and, as her father knew who I was, and I was of the same

town, of pure blood, in the bloom of life, and very rich in possessions,

I had great hopes of success. There was another of the same place and

qualifications who also sought her, and this made her father's choice

hang in the balance, for he felt that on either of us his daughter would

be well bestowed; so to escape from this state of perplexity he resolved

to refer the matter to Leandra (for that is the name of the rich damsel

who has reduced me to misery), reflecting that as we were both equal it

would be best to leave it to his dear daughter to choose according to her

inclination--a course that is worthy of imitation by all fathers who wish

to settle their children in life. I do not mean that they ought to leave

them to make a choice of what is contemptible and bad, but that they

should place before them what is good and then allow them to make a good

choice as they please. I do not know which Leandra chose; I only know her

father put us both off with the tender age of his daughter and vague

words that neither bound him nor dismissed us. My rival is called Anselmo

and I myself Eugenio--that you may know the names of the personages that

figure in this tragedy, the end of which is still in suspense, though it

is plain to see it must be disastrous.




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