"The fact is, my good man, that I am weary of hearing so many opinions, because I see that no one whom I ask does not tell me that it is nonsense to say this is a donkey's packsaddle and not the harness of a horse, even a thoroughbred, and so, you will have to be patient because despite you and your donkey, this is a harness and not a packsaddle, and you have presented and proved your case very badly."
"May I never have a place in heaven," said the second barber, "if all of your graces are not deceived, and may my soul appear before God with as much certainty as this appears to be a packsaddle and not a harness, but if you've got the might...and I'll say no more; the truth is I'm not drunk, and I haven't broken my fast except to sin."
The barber's simpleminded talk caused no less laughter than the lunacies of Don Quixote, who at this point said:
"All that can be done now is for each man to take what is his, and may St. Peter bless what God has given us."
One of the four servants said:
"Unless this is a trick of some kind, I can't believe that men of intelligence, which is what all of you are, or seem to be, can dare say and affirm that this isn't a basin and that isn't a saddle; but as I see that you do affirm and say it, I suppose there's some mysterious reason why you claim something so contrary to what truth and experience show us, and I swear"--and here he came out with a categorical oath--"that not all the people alive in the world today can make me think that this isn't a barber's basin, and that isn't a jackass's packsaddle."
"It might belong to a jenny," said the priest.
"It doesn't matter," said the servant, "that's not the point, the question is whether it is or isn't a packsaddle, as your graces claim."
Upon hearing this, one of the officers in the Holy Brotherhood who had come in and heard the discussion and dispute said in a fury and a rage:
"If that's not a saddle, then my father's not my father, and whoever says otherwise must be bleary-eyed with drink."
"Thou liest like the base villain thou art," responded Don Quixote.
And raising the lance that had never left his hands, he prepared to strike him so hard on the head that if the man had not dodged the blow, it would have knocked him down. The lance shattered on the ground, and the other officers, seeing their companion so badly treated, shouted for help for the Holy Brotherhood.
The innkeeper, who was a member,2 went in for his staff and sword and then stood by the side of his comrades; Don Luis's servants surrounded him so that he could not escape during the disturbance; the second barber, seeing everything in a turmoil, seized his packsaddle again, and so did Sancho; Don Quixote drew his sword and charged the officers. Don Luis shouted at his servants to leave him and go to the assistance of Don Quixote, and Cardenio and Don Fernando, who were fighting alongside Don Quixote. The priest shouted, the innkeeper's wife called out, her daughter cried, Maritornes wept, Dorotea was confused, Luscinda distraught, and Dona Clara in a swoon. The barber beat Sancho; Sancho pounded the barber; Don Luis, when one of his servants dared seize him by the arm to keep him from leaving, punched him so hard his mouth was bathed in blood; the judge defended him; Don Fernando had one of the officers under his feet and was trampling him with great pleasure; the innkeeper cried out again, calling for help for the Holy Brotherhood: in short, the entire inn was filled with cries, shouts, yells, confusions, fears, assaults, misfortunes, attacks with knives, fists, sticks, feet, and the spilling of blood. And in the midst of this chaos, this enormous confusion, it passed through the mind of Don Quixote that he had been plunged headlong into the discord in Agramante's camp,3 and in a voice that thundered throughout the inn, he cried:
"Hold, all of you! All of you sheathe your swords, stop fighting, and listen to me, if you wish to live!"
At this great shout everyone stopped, and he continued, saying:
"Did I not tell you, Senores, that this castle was enchanted and that some legion of demons must inhabit it? In confirmation of which I wish you to see with your own eyes what has transpired here and how the discord of Agramante's camp has descended upon us. Look, here they do battle for the sword, there for the horse, over there for the eagle, right here for the helmet, and all of us are fighting and all of us are quarreling.4 Come then, your grace, Senor Judge, and your grace, Senor Priest; one of you take the part of King Agramante and the other that of King Sobrino and make peace among us, because in the name of God Almighty it is a great wickedness for so many wellborn and distinguished people to kill one another for such trivial reasons."
The officers of the Holy Brotherhood, who did not understand Don Quixote's language and found themselves being mistreated by Don Fernando, Cardenio, and their comrades, did not wish to stop brawling, but the second barber did, since both his beard and his saddle had been damaged in the fracas; Sancho, like a good servant, obeyed every word his master said; and the four servants of Don Luis also stopped, seeing how little they had to gain from doing otherwise. Only the innkeeper insisted that the effronteries of that madman had to be punished, since he was always causing a disturbance at the inn. Finally, the clamor was stilled for the moment, and in the imagination of Don Quixote the saddle remained a harness until Judgment Day, and the basin a helmet, and the inn a castle.
When, at last, persuaded by the judge and the priest, everyone had made peace and become friends, Don Luis's servants began to insist again that he come away with them immediately, and as he was discussing this with them, the judge spoke to Don Fernando, Cardenio, and the priest regarding what should be done in this matter, recounting what Don Luis had said to him. Finally, it was decided that Don Fernando should reveal his identity to Don Luis's servants and tell them it was his wish that Don Luis accompany him to Andalucia, where his brother, the marquis, would welcome him as his great merit deserved, for it was evident that Don Luis would not now return willingly to his father even if he were torn to pieces. When the four men realized both the high rank of Don Fernando and the determination of Don Luis, they decided that three of them would return to report what had happened to his father and one would stay behind to serve Don Luis and not leave him until the other servants returned for him or he had learned what his master's orders were.
In this fashion, a tangle of quarrels was unraveled through the authority of Agramante and the prudence of King Sobrino, but the enemy of harmony and the adversary of peace, finding himself scorned and mocked, and seeing how little he had gained from having thrown them all into so confusing a labyrinth, resolved to try his hand again by provoking new disputes and disagreements.
So it was that the officers stopped fighting when they heard the rank and station of their opponents, and they withdrew from combat because it seemed to them that regardless of the outcome, they would get the worst of the argument; but one of them, the one who had been beaten and trampled by Don Fernando, recalled that among the warrants he was carrying for the detention of certain delinquents, he had one for Don Quixote, whom the Holy Brotherhood had ordered arrested, just as Sancho had feared, because he had freed the galley slaves.
When the officer remembered this, he wanted to certify that the description of Don Quixote in the warrant was correct, and after pulling a parchment from the bosom of his shirt, he found what he was looking for and began to read it slowly, because he was not a very good reader, and at each word he read he raised his eyes to look at Don Quixote, comparing the description in the warrant with Don Quixote's face, and he discovered that there was no question but that this was the person described in the warrant. As soon as he had certified this, he folded the parchment, held the warrant in his left hand, and with his right he seized Don Quixote so tightly by the collar that he could not breathe; in a loud voice he shouted:
"In the name of the Holy Brotherhood! And so everybody can see that I'm serious, read this warrant ordering the arrest of this highway robber."
The priest took the warrant and saw that what the officer said was true and that the features in the description matched those of Don Quixote, who, enraged
at his mistreatment by a base and lowborn churl, and with every bone in his body creaking, made a great effort and put his hands around the man's throat, and if his companions had not hurried to his assistance, the officer would have lost his life before Don Quixote released him. The innkeeper, who was obliged to assist his comrade, rushed to his aid. The innkeeper's wife, who saw her husband involved in a dispute again, raised her voice again, and Maritornes and her daughter immediately joined her, imploring the help of heaven and of everyone in the inn. Sancho, when he saw all of this, said:
"Good God! What my master says about enchantments in this castle is true! You can't have an hour's peace here!"
Don Fernando separated the officer and Don Quixote, and to the relief of both he loosened the hands of both men, for one was clutching a collar and the other was squeezing a throat; but this did not stop the officers from demanding that Don Quixote be arrested and that the others assist in binding him and committing him to their authority, as demanded by their duty to the king and the Holy Brotherhood, which once again was asking for their help and assistance in the arrest of this highway robber and roadway thief.
Don Quixote laughed when he heard these words and said very calmly:
"Come, lowborn and filthy creatures, you call it highway robbery to free those in chains, to give liberty to the imprisoned, to assist the wretched, raise up the fallen, succor the needy? Ah, vile rabble, your low and base intelligence does not deserve to have heaven communicate to you the great worth of knight errantry, or allow you to understand the sin and ignorance into which you have fallen when you do not reverence the shadow, let alone the actual presence, of any knight errant. Come, you brotherhood of thieves, you highway robbers sanctioned by the Holy Brotherhood, come and tell me who was the fool who signed an arrest warrant against such a knight as I? Who was the dolt who did not know that knights errant are exempt from all jurisdictional authority, or was unaware that their law is their sword, their edicts their courage, their statutes their will? Who was the imbecile, I say, who did not know that there is no patent of nobility with as many privileges and immunities as those acquired by a knight errant on the day he is dubbed a knight and dedicates himself to the rigorous practice of chivalry? What knight errant ever paid a tax, a duty, a queen's levy, a tribute, a tariff, or a toll? What tailor ever received payment from him for the clothes he sewed? What castellan welcomed him to his castle and then asked him to pay the cost? What king has not sat him at his table? What damsel has not loved him and given herself over to his will and desire? And, finally, what knight errant ever was, is, or will be in the world who does not have the courage to single-handedly deliver four hundred blows to four hundred Brotherhoods if they presume to oppose him?"
CHAPTER XLVI
Regarding the notable adventure of the officers of the Holy Brotherhood, and the great ferocity of our good knight Don Quixote
As Don Quixote was saying this, the priest was attempting to persuade the officers that Don Quixote was not in his right mind, as they could see by his actions and his words, and that they had no need to proceed with the matter, for even if they arrested him and took him away, they would have to release him immediately because he was a madman, to which the officer with the warrant replied that it was not up to him to judge the madness of Don Quixote, but only to do what his commanding officer ordered him to do, and once Don Quixote had been arrested, it was all the same to him if they let him go three hundred times over.
"Even so," said the priest, "this one time you should not take him, and as far as I can tell, he will not allow himself to be taken."
In fact, the priest was so persuasive, and Don Quixote did so many mad things, that the officers would have been crazier than he if they had not recognized Don Quixote's affliction, and so they thought it best not to proceed, and even to intervene and make peace between the barber and Sancho Panza, who still persisted with great rancor in their dispute. In short, as officers of the law, they mediated and arbitrated the matter in a manner that left both parties, if not completely happy, at least somewhat satisfied, because they exchanged saddles but not cinches and headstalls; as for the helmet of Mambrino, the priest secretly, and without Don Quixote's knowing anything about it, paid eight reales for the basin, and the barber gave him a receipt promising not to sue for fraud then or forever after, amen.
Having settled these two disputes, which were the most important and most pressing, it remained only for Don Luis's servants to agree that three would return home while one stayed behind to accompany him wherever Don Fernando wished to take him; since good luck had begun to intervene in favor of the lovers and the valiant people at the inn, overcoming all difficulties, a better fortune wished to bring everything to a happy conclusion, and his servants acceded to Don Luis's wishes, which so delighted Dona Clara that no one could look at her face and not know the joy in her heart.
Zoraida, although she did not completely understand all the events she had seen, became sad or happy by turns, depending on what she saw and observed on the faces of other people, especially her Spaniard, on whom her eyes were fixed and her heart and soul depended. The innkeeper, who had not failed to notice the compensatory gift given to the barber by the priest, demanded payment from Don Quixote, including damages to his wineskins and the loss of his wine, swearing that neither Rocinante nor Sancho's donkey1 would leave the inn unless he was first paid down to the last ardite. The priest settled the matter, and Don Fernando paid the bill, although the judge had very willingly offered to pay as well, and everything was so peaceful and serene that the inn no longer resembled the discord in Agramante's camp, as Don Quixote had said, but seemed the very peace and tranquility of the time of Octavian; it was the generally held opinion that thanks for this were owed to the good intentions and great eloquence of the priest and the incomparable liberality of Don Fernando.
When Don Quixote found himself free and clear of so many disputes, his squire's as well as his own, it seemed to him that it would be a good idea to continue the journey he had begun and conclude the great adventure to which he had been called and for which he had been chosen; and so, with resolute determination, he went to kneel before Dorotea, who would not permit him to say a word until he stood, and he, in obedience to her, rose to his feet, and said:
"'Tis a common proverb, O beauteous lady, that diligence is the mother of good fortune, and in many grave and serious matters experience hath shown that solicitude canst bring a doubtful matter to a successful conclusion, but nowhere is this truth clearer than in questions of war, in which celerity and speed canst disrupt the enemy's plans and achieve victory ere the adversary prepareth his defenses. This I say, most high and exalted lady, because it seemeth that our stay in this castle no longer profiteth us and might even prove harmful, as we may discover one day, for who knoweth if by means of hidden and diligent spies thy enemy the giant hath not learned that I am going to destroy him, and hath taken advantage of our sojourn here to fortify himself in some impregnable castle or bastion against which all my efforts and the might of my tireless arm may be of no avail? And so, Senora, let us, I say, disrupt his designs with our diligence and depart immediately, whilst fortune favoreth us, for to keep it with us, as your highness wisheth, we must delay no longer my encounter with thy adversary."
Don Quixote fell silent and said no more, and waited very calmly for the reply of the beauteous princess, who, with noble bearing, and adapting to the style used by Don Quixote, responded in this fashion:
"I thanketh thee, Senor Knight, for the desire thou hast shown to favor me in my great distress, like a true knight whose profession and preoccupation is to favor orphans and those in need; may heaven grant that thy desire and mine are achieved so that thou mayest see that there are grateful women in the world. As for my departure, let it be immediate, for I have no will other than thine: thou mayest dispose of me as thou pleaseth and chooseth, for she who hath once entrusted to thee the defense of her person and placed in thy hands the restoration of her d
omains ought not go against what thy prudence ordaineth."
"May it be God's will," said Don Quixote, "for when a lady humbleth herself before me, I do not wish to lose the opportunity to raise her and restore her to her rightful throne. Let us depart now, for the ancient saying that danger lieth in delay spurreth my desire to be on our way. And since heaven hath not created, nor hell seen, any that canst daunt or frighten me, saddle Rocinante, Sancho, and harness thy donkey and the palfrey of the queen, and let us bid farewell to the castellan and these gentlefolk and leave at once."
Sancho, who had been present for this entire exchange, shook his head and said:
"Oh, Senor, Senor, there's more wickedness in the village than they tell you about, begging the pardon of honorable ladies who let themselves be touched."
"What wickedness can there be in any village, or in all the cities of the world, that can discredit me, oh, lowborn knave?"
"If your grace gets angry," responded Sancho, "I'll be quiet and won't say what I'm obliged to say as a good squire, and what a good Christian is obliged to tell his master."
"Say whatever you wish," replied Don Quixote, "as long as your words are not intended to instill fear in me, for if you are afraid, then you are true to the person you are, and if I am not, then I am true to mine."