br />As soon as he entered the inn he recognized Don Quixote and Sancho, and this made it easy for him to astound Don Quixote and Sancho Panza and everyone at the inn, but it would have cost him dear if Don Quixote had lowered his hand a little when he cut off King Marsilio's head and destroyed all his knights, as related in the previous chapter.
This is what there is to say about Master Pedro and his monkey.
Returning to Don Quixote of La Mancha, I will say that after he left the inn, he decided to first see the banks of the Ebro River and the surrounding region before entering the city of Zaragoza, since he had enough time for everything before the tourney began. This was his intention as he traveled along the road, and he rode on it for two days without anything occurring that was worth writing down, and then on the third day, as he was riding up a hill, he heard the loud sounds of drums and trumpets and the firing of harquebuses. At first he thought a regiment of soldiers was passing through, and in order to see them he spurred Rocinante and rode up the hill, and when he reached the top he saw at the foot of the hill what appeared to be more than two hundred men armed with a variety of weapons, such as pikes, crossbows, battle-axes, halberds, lances, a few harquebuses, and a good number of bucklers. He rode down the hillside and came so close to the squadron that he clearly saw the banners, observing the colors and noting the devices they displayed, especially one, a standard or pennant of white satin on which was painted, in a very lifelike manner, a donkey that seemed to be a small Sardinian,1 with his head raised, mouth open, and tongue out, as if in the act and posture of braying; around him these two verses were written in large letters:
Two mayors of two towns:
they brayed, and not in vain.
By means of this emblem Don Quixote assumed that these people were from the braying village, and he told Sancho this as he read to him what was written on the banner. He also said that the man who told them about the matter had erred when he said that it had been two councilmen who brayed, because according to the verses on the banner, they had been mayors. To which Sancho Panza responded:
"Senor, that's of no importance, because it well might be that the councilmen who brayed in time became the mayors of their villages, and so can be called by both titles, especially since it doesn't matter to the truth of the history if the brayers were mayors or councilmen, since they really did bray, and a mayor's as good as a councilman for braying."
In short, they realized and concluded that the offended village was coming out to do battle with another that had insulted it more than it was proper and fitting for good neighbors to do.
Don Quixote approached them, to the great sorrow of Sancho, who never liked to find himself involved in these kinds of situations. The men in the squadron welcomed him into their midst, believing he was one of their supporters. Don Quixote, raising his visor, rode with a gallant air and bearing up to the standard with the donkey, where the most distinguished men in the army, astounded with the usual astonishment that struck all those who saw him for the first time, gathered round to see him. Don Quixote, finding them so intent on looking at him, but not saying anything to him or asking any questions, wanted to take advantage of their silence by breaking his, and he raised his voice and said:
"Good sirs, as earnestly as I can I beg you not to interrupt a statement I wish to make, unless you see that it offends and angers you; if this should happen, at the smallest sign from you I shall place a seal on my mouth and a clamp on my tongue."
Everyone told him to say whatever he wished and they would gladly listen to him. With this license, Don Quixote continued, saying:
"I, Senores, am a knight errant whose practice is arms and whose profession is favoring those in need of favor and helping those in distress. Some days ago I learned of your misfortune and the cause that moves you to constantly take up arms and seek revenge against your enemies; and having reflected time and time again on your case, I find that, according to the laws of the duel, you are mistaken in considering yourselves insulted, because no single individual can insult an entire village except by challenging it as a whole with being a traitor, since he does not know who in particular committed the treasonous act. We have an example of this in Don Diego Ordonez de Lara,2 who challenged the entire population of Zamora because he did not know that Vellido Dolfos alone had committed the treason of killing his king, and so he challenged them all, and all were entitled to seek revenge and respond, although it is certainly true that Senor Don Diego took it a little too far and even went beyond the limits of the challenge, for he had no reason to challenge the dead, the water, the loaves of bread, those about to be born, or all the other things that are mentioned there;3 but then, when anger overcomes mother wit, no father, tutor, or restraint can curb the tongue.
Since it is true that a single individual cannot offend an entire kingdom, province, city, nation, or people, it is evident that there is no reason to come out to avenge the challenge of the offense, for it is not one. Imagine if people from the village of the Reloja were constantly killing those who called them by that name,4 or if the Fusspots, the Eggplant-eaters, the Whalers, the Soapmakers did,5 or any of the other names and nicknames that are always in the mouths of boys and people of little worth! Imagine if all these noble towns were to take offense and seek vengeance, their swords, like the slide on a sackbut, constantly going in and out in any dispute, no matter how trivial! No, no, God would not permit nor desire that. Prudent men and well-ordered nations take up arms and unsheathe their swords and risk their persons, lives, and fortunes for only four reasons: first, in defense of the Catholic faith; second, in self-defense, which is a natural and divine law; third, in defense of their honor, their family, and their fortune; fourth, to serve their king in a just war; and if we wish to add a fifth, which can be considered the second, it is in defense of their country. To these five capital causes we can add a few others that are just and reasonable and oblige men to take up arms, but anyone who does so for trifles and matters that are more laughable and amusing than insulting seems to lack all good sense; moreover, taking unjust revenge, and no revenge can be just, is directly contrary to the holy law we profess, which commands us to do good to our enemies and love those who hate us, a commandment that, although it seems somewhat difficult to obey, is not, except for those who care less for God than for the world, and more for the flesh than for the spirit; because Jesus Christ, God and true man, who never lied, nor could He lie, nor can He, being our lawgiver, said that His yoke was gentle and His burden light; and so, He would not command something that was impossible to obey. Therefore, Senores, your graces are obliged by divine and human laws to make peace."
"The devil take me," said Sancho to himself, "if this master of mine isn't a theologian, and if he isn't, then he's as much like one as two peas in a pod."
Don Quixote took a breath, and seeing that they were still listening silently, he wished to continue his speech, and would have if Sancho, with his usual keenness, had not intervened when, seeing that his master had paused, he began to speak, saying:
"My master, Don Quixote of La Mancha, who was once called The Knight of the Sorrowful Face and is now called The Knight of the Lions, is a very prudent gentleman who knows Latin and Spanish like a bachelor, and in all his dealings and advice he proceeds like a very good soldier, and he knows all the laws and rules about what is called dueling like the back of his hand, and so there's nothing else to do but listen to what he says, and if you're wrong, let it be on my head, especially since they say that it's foolish to lose your temper just because you hear somebody bray; I remember, when I was boy, I used to bray whenever I felt like it, and nobody held me back, and I did it so well and so perfectly that when I brayed all the donkeys in the village brayed, but that didn't stop me from being my parents' son, and they were very honorable people, and even though this talent of mine was envied by more than a few of the conceited boys in my village, I didn't care at all. And so that you can see that I'm telling the truth, wait and listen, because if you know this, it's like knowing how to swim: once you've learned you never forget."
And then he held his nose and began to bray so enthusiastically that all the nearby valleys resonated with the sound. But one of the men who was near him, thinking he was mocking them, raised a long pole that he had in his hand and hit him so hard with it that he knocked Sancho Panza to the ground, senseless. Don Quixote, who saw Sancho so badly treated, turned, his lance in hand, on the man who had hit him, but so many men came between them that it was not possible to avenge his squire; instead, seeing that a storm of stones came raining down on him, and that he was being threatened by a thousand crossbows and a similar number of harquebuses, all of them aimed at him, he turned Rocinante's reins and as fast as his best gallop could carry him, Don Quixote rode away, praying to God with all his heart to save him from that danger, and fearing at each step that a bullet would enter at his back and come out of his chest; at every moment he would take a breath to see if he still could.
But the men in the squadron were content to see him flee, and they did not shoot at him. They put Sancho across his donkey as soon as he came to, and they allowed him to go after his master, not because he was alert enough to guide the animal, but because the donkey followed in Rocinante's footsteps since he did not like being without him. When Don Quixote had gone some distance, he turned his head and saw Sancho and waited for him, for he saw that no one was following him.
The men in the squadron stayed there until nightfall, and since their adversaries had not come out to do battle, they returned to their village joyfully and happily; if they had known about the ancient custom of the Greeks, on that spot and in that place they would have raised a monument to their victory.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Regarding matters that Benengeli says will be known to the reader if he reads with attention
When the brave man flees, trickery is revealed, and the prudent man waits for a better opportunity. This truth was proved in Don Quixote, who yielded to the fury of the village and the evil intent of the enraged squadron and fled, not thinking of Sancho or the danger in which he left him, and rode the distance he thought sufficient to ensure his safety. Sancho followed, lying across his donkey, as has been related. When he had regained consciousness he overtook Don Quixote, and when he did, Sancho dropped off the donkey at Rocinante's feet, perturbed, bruised, and battered. Don Quixote dismounted to tend to the squire's wounds, but since he found him sound from head to foot, with some anger he said:
"It was an evil hour when you learned how to bray, Sancho!1 And when did you decide it would be a good idea to mention rope in the house of the hanged man? When braying is the music, what counterpoint can there be except a beating? Give thanks to God, Sancho, that even though they made the sign of the cross over you with a stick, they did not cut a per signum crucis 2 on your face."
"I'm not about to respond," responded Sancho, "because it seems to me I'm talking with my back. Let's mount and leave this place, and I'll silence my braying, but I won't stop saying that knights errant run away and leave their good squires beaten to a pulp or ground up like grain and in the power of their enemies."
"Withdrawal is not flight," responded Don Quixote, "because you should know, Sancho, that valor not founded on the base of prudence is called recklessness, and the deeds of the reckless are attributed more to good fortune than to courage. And so I confess that I withdrew, but not that I fled, and in this I have imitated many valiant men who have waited for a better moment; the histories are full of such cases, but since they would not be to your advantage or my taste, I shall not recount them to you now."
By now Sancho had mounted his donkey, with the assistance of Don Quixote, who then mounted Rocinante, and slowly they rode toward a stand of poplars that appeared about a quarter of a league distant. From time to time Sancho heaved some very deep sighs and mournful groans, and when Don Quixote asked the cause of such bitter feeling, he responded that from the base of his spine to the back of his neck he was in so much pain that it was driving him mad.
"The cause of this pain no doubt must be," said Don Quixote, "that since the staff they used to beat you was long and tall, it hit the length of your back, which is where the parts that pain you are located; if it had hit more of you, more of you would be in pain."
"By God," said Sancho, "your grace has cleared up a great doubt, and said it so nicely, too! Lord save us! Was the cause of my pain so hidden that you had to tell me I hurt where the staff hit me? If my ankles hurt, there might be a reason to try and guess why, but guessing that I hurt where I was beaten isn't much of a guess. By my faith, Senor Master, other people's troubles don't matter very much, and every day I learn something else about how little I can expect from being in your grace's company, because if you let them beat me this time, then a hundred more times we'll be back to the old tossings in a blanket and other tricks like that, and if it was my back now, the next time it'll be my eyes. I'd be much better off, but I'm an idiot and will never do anything right in my life, but I'd be much better off, and I'll say it again, if I went back home to my wife and children and supported her and brought them up with whatever it pleased God to give me, instead of following after your grace on roads that have no destination, and byways and highways that lead nowhere, drinking badly and eating worse. And sleeping! Brother squire, you can count on seven feet of ground, and if you want more, take another seven, for it's all up to you, and you can stretch out to your heart's content; all I hope is that I can see the first man who put the finishing touches on knight errantry burned and ground into dust, or at least the first one who wanted to be squire to the great fools that all knights errant in the past must have been. I won't say anything about those in the present; since your grace is one of them, I respect them, and I know that your grace knows a point or two more than the devil in all you say and think."
"I would make a wager with you, Sancho,"3 said Don Quixote. "Now that you are speaking and no one is restraining you, you have no pains anywhere in your body. Speak, my friend, and say everything that comes to your mind and your mouth; in exchange for your not having any pains, I shall consider the irritation your impertinence causes me as pleasure. And if you so fervently desire to return to your house and wife and children, God forbid that I do anything to stop you; you have my money; calculate how long it has been since we left our village this third time, and calculate what you can and should earn each month, and pay yourself a salary."
"When I served Tome Carrasco," responded Sancho, "the father of Bachelor Sanson Carrasco, and your grace knows him very well, I earned two ducados a month, and food besides; with your grace I don't know what I should earn, though I know that the squire of a knight errant has more work than a man who serves a farmer, because when we serve farmers, no matter how much we work during the day, and no matter what bad things happen to us, at night we eat stew and sleep in beds, which I haven't done since I started serving your grace. Except for the short time we were in Don Diego de Miranda's house, and the outing I had with the skimmings I took from Camacho's pots, and the way I ate and drank and slept in Basilio's house, all the rest of the time I've slept on the hard ground, outside, exposed to what they call the inclemencies of heaven, eating crumbs of cheese and crusts of bread and drinking water from streams or springs or whatever we find in those out-of-the-way places where we travel."
"I confess," said Don Quixote, "that everything you say, Sancho, is true. In your opinion, how much more should I give you than Tome Carrasco did?"
"In my opinion," said Sancho, "if your grace added two reales more a month, I'd think I was well-paid. This is the salary for my work, but as far as satisfying your grace's word and promise to make me governor of an insula, it would be fair to add another six reales, and that would be a total of thirty."
"Very well," replied Don Quixote, "and in accordance with the salary you have indicated, it has been twenty-five days since we left our village: calculate, Sancho, the rate times the amount, and see what I owe you, and pay yourself the money, as I have said."
"Oh, Lord," said Sancho, "your grace is very much mistaken in this count, because in the matter of the promise of the insula, you have to count from the day your grace promised it to me until this very moment."
"Well, Sancho, how long ago did I promise it to you?" said Don Quixote.
"If I remember correctly," responded Sancho, "it must be more than twenty years, give or take three days."
Don Quixote gave himself a great slap on the forehead and began to laugh very heartily, and he said:
"My travels in the Sierra Morena or in the course of all our sallies took barely two months, and you say, Sancho, that I promised you the insula twenty years ago? Now I say that you want to use all my money for your salary, and if this is true, and it makes you happy, I shall give it all to you, and may it do you good; in exchange for finding myself without so bad a squire, I shall enjoy being poor and not having a blanca. But tell me, you corrupter of the squirely rules of knight errantry, where have you seen or read that any squire of a knight errant has engaged his master in 'You have to give me this amount plus that amount every month for serving you'? Set sail, set sail, scoundrel, coward, monster, for you seem to be all three, set sail, I say, on the mare magnum 4 of their histories, and if you find that any squire has said, or even thought, what you have said here, I want you to fasten it to my forehead and then you can pinch my face four times. Turn the reins or halter of your donkey, and go back to your house, because you will not take another step with me. O bread unthanked! O promises misplaced! O man more animal than human! Now, when I intended to place you in a position where, despite your wife, you would be called Senor, now you take your leave? Now you go, when I had the firm and binding intention of making you lord of the best insula in the world? In short, as you have said on other occasions, there is no honey...5 You are a jackass, and must be a jackass, and will en