Nor was Don Quixote less so, for what with blows and bruises he could not

sit upright on the ass, and from time to time he sent up sighs to heaven,

so that once more he drove the peasant to ask what ailed him. And it

could have been only the devil himself that put into his head tales to

match his own adventures, for now, forgetting Baldwin, he bethought

himself of the Moor Abindarraez, when the Alcaide of Antequera, Rodrigo

de Narvaez, took him prisoner and carried him away to his castle; so that

when the peasant again asked him how he was and what ailed him, he gave

him for reply the same words and phrases that the captive Abindarraez

gave to Rodrigo de Narvaez, just as he had read the story in the "Diana"

of Jorge de Montemayor where it is written, applying it to his own case

so aptly that the peasant went along cursing his fate that he had to

listen to such a lot of nonsense; from which, however, he came to the

conclusion that his neighbour was mad, and so made all haste to reach the

village to escape the wearisomeness of this harangue of Don Quixote's;

who, at the end of it, said, "Senor Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, your worship

must know that this fair Xarifa I have mentioned is now the lovely

Dulcinea del Toboso, for whom I have done, am doing, and will do the most

famous deeds of chivalry that in this world have been seen, are to be

seen, or ever shall be seen."

To this the peasant answered, "Senor--sinner that I am!--cannot your

worship see that I am not Don Rodrigo de Narvaez nor the Marquis of

Mantua, but Pedro Alonso your neighbour, and that your worship is neither

Baldwin nor Abindarraez, but the worthy gentleman Senor Quixada?"

"I know who I am," replied Don Quixote, "and I know that I may be not

only those I have named, but all the Twelve Peers of France and even all

the Nine Worthies, since my achievements surpass all that they have done

all together and each of them on his own account."

With this talk and more of the same kind they reached the village just as

night was beginning to fall, but the peasant waited until it was a little

later that the belaboured gentleman might not be seen riding in such a

miserable trim. When it was what seemed to him the proper time he entered

the village and went to Don Quixote's house, which he found all in

confusion, and there were the curate and the village barber, who were

great friends of Don Quixote, and his housekeeper was saying to them in a

loud voice, "What does your worship think can have befallen my master,

Senor Licentiate Pero Perez?" for so the curate was called; "it is three

days now since anything has been seen of him, or the hack, or the

buckler, lance, or armour. Miserable me! I am certain of it, and it is as

true as that I was born to die, that these accursed books of chivalry he

has, and has got into the way of reading so constantly, have upset his

reason; for now I remember having often heard him saying to himself that

he would turn knight-errant and go all over the world in quest of

adventures. To the devil and Barabbas with such books, that have brought

to ruin in this way the finest understanding there was in all La Mancha!"




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