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堂吉诃德|Don Quixote

Part 1 第35章|Part 1 Chapter 35

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 塞万提斯] 阅读：[44773]
《堂吉诃德》是一部幽默诙谐、滑稽可笑、充满了奇思妙想的长篇文学巨著。此书主要描写了一个有趣、可敬、可悲、喜欢自欺欺人的没落贵族堂吉诃德，他痴狂地迷恋古代骑士小说，以至于放弃家业，用破甲驽马装扮成古代骑士的样子，再雇佣农民桑乔作侍从，三次出征周游全国，去创建所谓的扶弱锄强的骑士业绩。他们在征险的生涯中闹出了许多笑话，到处碰壁受辱，堂吉诃德多次被打成重伤，有一次还被当成疯子关在笼子里遣送回乡。最后，他因征战不利郁郁寡欢而与世长辞，临终前他那一番貌似悔悟的话语让人匪夷所思又哭笑不得。
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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故事还差一点儿没有讲完，这时，桑乔忽然慌慌张张地从唐吉诃德住的那个顶楼上跑了下来，大声喊道：

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“诸位，快来吧，来帮帮我的主人吧，他正在进行一场我从没见过的激烈战斗呢。感谢上帝，他一剑就把同米科米科娜公主作对的巨人的脑袋像砍萝卜似的整个砍下来了。”

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“你说什么，兄弟？”神甫放下手中的书问道，“你发疯了吗，桑乔？那个巨人离这儿远着呢，你说的是什么魔鬼呀？”

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这时只听顶楼上一声巨响，唐吉诃德大声喊道：

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“站住！你这个盗贼、恶棍、歹徒！我已经抓住你了，你的破刀也没用了！”

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听声音好像是唐吉诃德在奋力砍墙壁。桑乔说：

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“你们别光站着听，倒是进去劝劝架呀，或者帮帮我的主人嘛。不过也许不需要了，那个巨人肯定已经死了，向上帝招认他以前的罪孽去了。我刚才看见地上流着血，巨人被砍掉的头颅落在一旁，体积有大皮酒囊那么大呢。”

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“我敢打赌，”店主说，“肯定是唐吉诃德或唐魔鬼把他床边的红葡萄酒囊扎破了，流到地上的葡萄酒大概就是这个好心人说的血吧。”

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店主说着走进顶楼，大家也都跟了进去，只见唐吉诃德穿着一身可以说是世界上最奇特的服装。他只穿着一件衬衣，前面只能盖到大腿，后面比前面还短六指。他的两条腿特别长，还长满了汗毛，没有一点不带汗毛的地方。头上戴着店主那顶脏兮兮的红帽子，左臂上绕着桑乔最反感的被单，至于桑乔为什么对它反感，他自己当然知道。唐吉诃德的右手拿着一把短剑，正挥舞着到处乱剌，嘴里还说着什么，似乎真是在同什么巨人搏斗。

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好在唐吉诃德的眼睛并没有睁开。他仍然处于睡眠状态，做着梦同巨人作战。他急于完成自己的大业，所以梦见自己已经来到了米科米孔王国，正在同自己的敌人战斗。他对着酒囊剌了很多下，以为自己正在剌向巨人，结果弄得满屋子都是葡萄酒。店主见状勃然大怒。他向唐吉诃德冲去，攥紧拳头猛打。若不是卡德尼奥和神甫把他拉开，那么，结束这场同巨人战斗的人就是店主了。即使这么打，可怜的唐吉诃德还是没有醒。直到后来理发师从井里弄来一大罐凉水，朝着唐吉诃德从头到脚浇下去，唐吉诃德才醒过来。不过，他还是没想起自己为什么成了这个样子。多罗特亚见唐吉诃德穿得这么短又这么单薄，不好意思进来看这位游侠和她的对手作战。

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桑乔正在满地找巨人的脑袋，结果没有找到，就说：

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“现在我知道了，这间房子里所有的东西都中了魔法。上一次，我就是在我现在待的这个地方被人打了一顿老拳，却不知道是什么人打的，看不见任何人。这回，我刚才亲眼看到巨人的脑袋被砍掉了，血如喷泉从巨人的身体里涌出来，现在却找不到巨人那个脑袋了。”

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“什么血呀泉的，你这个上帝和神明的敌人！”店主说，“你没看到吗？笨蛋，血和泉就是从这房间被戳破的酒囊里流出来的红葡萄酒！我要让戳破酒囊的人的灵魂到地狱里去游荡！”

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“这些我都不知道，”桑乔说，“我只知道若是找不到这个脑袋，我就会倒霉透顶，我的伯爵称号就会化为乌有。”

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桑乔没睡觉，却比唐吉诃德睡着觉还糊涂，这大概是他主人的诺言造成的。

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店主看到侍从糊涂，主人疯癫，简直气得绝望之极。他发誓绝不能像上次那样，让他们不付钱就跑掉。这次他们别想靠什么骑士的特权赖任何帐，就连修补酒囊用的钱也得让他们掏。

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神甫抓住唐吉诃德的双手。唐吉诃德以为自己已经大功告成，眼前站着的是米科米科娜公主。他在神甫面前跪了下来，说道：

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“尊贵著名的公主，从今以后，您不用担心那个恶棍再对您作恶了。我已经在高贵的上帝和我视为命根子的公主帮助下履行了我的诺言，从今以后也不再受它约束了。”

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“难道我没说过吗？”桑乔听了说道，“我并没有醉。你们看看，我的主人是不是已经把那个巨人打跑了！我的伯爵称号也妥了，果不其然！”

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谁听了主仆二人的胡话都会忍俊不禁。大家都笑了，只有店主气得要发疯。最后，理发师、卡德尼奥和神甫费了不少力气，才把唐吉诃德弄到床上。唐吉诃德看样子疲惫已极，倒头沉沉睡去。大家又到客店门口安慰桑乔，他正为找不到巨人的头而着急呢。不过，最主要的是让店主消消气。店主为突然损失了这么多酒囊而气急败坏。客店主妇也大声喊道：

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“这个游侠骑士到我们店里来，可算让我们倒霉透了，我这辈子也不想再见到他们了。他们让我们赔了多少钱！上次赔了一个晚上的晚饭、床铺、稻草和大麦，这是他和他的侍从以及骡子和一头驴用的。他们说自己是征险骑士，是上帝让他们和世界上的所有冒险者走厄运，所以什么钱也不用付，还说游侠骑士的章程上就是这么写的。现在，还是为了他，又来了一位大人，拿走了我的尾巴，等到还回来的时候，已经毁得差不多了，毛都秃了，我丈夫想用也没法用了。最可恶的就是弄破了我的酒囊，流了一地葡萄酒，我倒愿意这地上流的都是他的血呢。我以我已故父母的名义发誓，他们不能少给一文钱，休想！否则我就不叫我自己的名字，就不是我父母养的！”客店主妇说得怒气冲冲，丑女仆又在一旁帮腔。她的女儿一声不吭，只是不时地微笑一下。神甫一直在安慰她，说将尽可能地赔偿她的所有损失，包括酒囊和葡萄酒，特别是那只贵重的尾巴。多罗特亚安慰桑乔说，只要能证实他的主人砍掉巨人的头一事是真的，等她的王国太平了，她肯定会把王国里最好的伯爵领地赏给他。

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桑乔听了这话才放心了。他向公主发誓说，他的确看到了巨人的脑袋。说得更具体些，他看到巨人有一副直拖到腰部的胡子。如果巨人不见了，那肯定是魔法弄的。那间房子里的所有事都受到了魔法操纵，上次他在这儿住的时候就遇到这种情况。多罗特亚说她相信是这样。她让桑乔别着急，一切都会如愿以偿。大家都安静下来了，神甫就想把书看完，那本书已经看得差不多了。卡德尼奥、多罗特亚和其他所有人都请求神甫把书读完。神甫为了让大家高兴，他自己也想看，就把故事讲了下去。故事是这样说的：

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且说安塞尔莫对卡米拉的品德很满意，过着无忧无虑的快乐日子。卡米拉故意冷冷地对待洛塔里奥，为的是让安塞尔莫有一种错觉。为了更保险，卡米拉还让洛塔里奥请求以后不再来他家了，因为卡米拉见了他会明显不高兴。可是被蒙在鼓里的安塞尔莫坚决不同意他这么做。这样，无论从哪一方面讲，安塞尔莫都使自己丢尽了脸，而他却以为这是自己的福气。与此同时，莱昂内拉觉得自己的情爱也得到了认可，便更加肆无忌惮地放纵自己，相信女主人会帮她掩盖，而且还会告诉她如何避免引起怀疑。结果有一天晚上，安塞尔莫觉得莱昂内拉的房间里有脚步声，他想看看是谁在走动，可是似乎有人在顶着门。这样安塞尔莫就更想进去看看了。他用力推开门闯进去，看到一个男人正从窗口跳到街上。他想赶紧追出去看看到底是谁。可是莱昂内拉紧紧抓住他不放，使他脱身不得。莱昂内拉说：

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“别着急，我的主人，您别再追那个跳出去的人了。这是我的事，他是我丈夫。”

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安塞尔莫不相信。他简直气昏了头，拔出短剑就要剌莱昂内拉，还说如果她不说实话就杀死她。莱昂内拉吓坏了，不知是怎么回事，她竟说：

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“别杀我，我的主人，我还有您想象不到的重要事情要告诉您呢。”

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“快说，”安塞尔莫说，“要不然你就死定了。”

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“现在我可没法说出来，”莱昂内拉说，“我这会儿心慌意乱。让我明天早晨再告诉您吧，那时候您就会知道一件让您意外的事情。我保证刚才从窗户跳出去的是本城的一个青年，他已经同意和我结婚了。”

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安塞尔莫这才放下心来。他想等到莱昂内拉要求的第二天再说。他没想到这件事会与卡米拉有关，现在他对卡米拉的品行已经满意和放心了。他走出莱昂内拉的房间，把莱昂内拉锁在里面，对她说，如果她不把该说的事情告诉他，就别想出来。

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然后，安塞尔莫就去看望卡米拉，对她讲了刚才在女仆那儿发生的事情，还说女仆要同他说一件至关重大的事情。卡米拉是否慌了手脚，且不必说，反正她怕得要死。她完全相信，也有理由相信，莱昂内拉会把她知道的有关自己不忠的事情告诉安塞尔莫。卡米拉没有勇气再等着瞧自己的猜测是否正确，当天晚上，她估计安塞尔莫已经睡着了，就把自己最贵重的首饰和一些钱收拾好，神不知鬼不觉地出了家门，去找洛塔里奥。她把发生的事情告诉了洛塔里奥，求他或者把自己藏起来，或者两人一同逃到安塞尔莫肯定找不着他们的地方去。

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卡米拉这么一说，洛塔里奥也慌了神，不知如何回答是好，也拿不定主意该怎么办了。最后，他想到可以把卡米拉送到一个修道院去，他的一个姐妹在那儿当院长。卡米拉同意了。洛塔里奥把卡米拉火速送到了修道院，接着他自己也从城里悄悄地失踪了。

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第二天早晨，安塞尔莫没有发现卡米拉已经不在他身边了。他只是急于知道莱昂内拉要告诉他的事情，起床后就到关莱昂内拉的房间去了。他打开门，走进房间，可是不见莱昂内拉，只见窗台上系着几条床单，看来莱昂内拉就是从那儿溜走的。他闷闷不乐地赶紧回来告诉卡米拉，可是无论在床上还是在家里，到处都找不到卡米拉，他感到很奇怪。他向家里的佣人打听卡米拉到哪儿去了，可是大家都不知道。结果在找卡米拉的过程中发现卡米拉的首饰盒都打开着，里面的大部分首饰都没有了，他才意识到出事了，而且问题不在莱昂内拉身上。于是他连衣服都来不及穿好，便忧心忡忡地去把自己的倒霉事告诉洛塔里奥。可是洛塔里奥也找不到了。佣人们告诉他，那天晚上，洛塔里奥就不见了，而且把所有的钱都带走了，大概是发疯了。更有甚者，安塞尔莫回到家，发现家里的男女佣人都不见了，家徒四壁，只剩下他孤零零的一个人。

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他不知道该怎么想、怎么说、怎么做，慢慢才开始明白过来。瞬时，他惊奇地发现自己没有了妻子，没有了朋友，没有了佣人。他觉得天仿佛塌了，尤其是他已经名誉扫地了。卡米拉这一走，他可以断定，她已经堕落了。他考虑了一会儿，决定到自己在乡间的朋友那儿去。当初这个悲剧发生时，他就是住在那儿的。他锁好家门，骑上马，迷迷糊糊地上了路。刚走到一半，他心绪纷乱，只好下了马，把马拴在树上，并且在树旁躺下来，长吁短叹，一直呆到天快黑了。这时，他看见有人骑马从城里走来，便向他问好，然后问佛罗伦萨城里有什么消息。那人说道：

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“城里出了可以说是这些天来最新鲜的事。大家都在说，住在圣胡安的富翁安塞尔莫昨晚被老朋友洛塔里奥拐走了妻子卡米拉，安塞尔莫本人也不见了。这些都是卡米拉的一个女佣说的。昨天晚上，总督发现她用床单从安塞尔莫家的窗口溜了下来，把她逮住了。我也不知道详情是怎么回事，只知道整个城市都因为这件事轰动了。这种事情发生在两个情同手足的朋友之间，简直令人难以想象。大家都说他们是‘朋友俩’。”

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“那么，你知道洛塔里奥和卡米拉到哪儿去了吗？”安塞尔莫问。

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“总督全力查找，都没能发现他们，我就更不知道了。”那个城里人说。

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“再见吧，大人。”安塞尔莫说。

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“上帝与你同在。”城里人说完就走了。

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这不幸的消息对安塞尔莫打击太大了，他不仅快气疯了，而且快气死了。他挣扎着站起来，到了朋友家。那位朋友还不知道他的事情，但一看到他脸色蜡黄、心力憔悴的样子，就知道准是被某件严重的事情弄的。安塞尔莫请求让他躺下，并且要写字用的文具。朋友按照他的吩咐做了，留下他躺在房间里。安塞尔莫要求让他一个人留在房间里，而且把门关好。这特大的不幸涌上心头，他感到了死亡的先兆，知道自己将不久于人世。他要让人们知道自己突然死亡的原因。他开始留言，可是还没写完，就咽了气。

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房子的主人见天色已晚，安塞尔莫却没叫他，就想进去看看他是否有什么不舒服，结果看到安塞尔莫脸朝下趴着，半个身子坐在床上，半个身子趴在写字台上。写字台上有一张打开的便条，安塞尔莫手上还拿着一支笔。主人叫他，见他不回答，才发现他身体冰凉，已经死了。他的朋友既惊讶又难过，赶紧把家里的人都叫来，让他们也看到了安塞尔莫遭遇的不幸。最后，他看了纸条，认出这是安塞尔莫亲笔写的。

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纸条上这样写着：

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一个固执无聊的念头断送了我的生命。如果我的死

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讯能够传到卡米拉的耳朵里，就告诉她，我原谅她，因为她没有义务创造出奇迹来，我也不曾希望她创造出奇迹来。是我自己制造了我的耻辱，没有理由……

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安塞尔莫就写到这儿。可以看得出，他还没有写完就终止了生命。第二天，安塞尔莫的朋友将他的死讯通知了他的亲属，他们已经知道了安塞尔莫的丢脸事。那位朋友还通知了卡米拉所在的修道院。卡米拉差点陪丈夫走上同一条路，这倒不是因为她得知了丈夫的噩耗，而是因为她听说洛塔里奥不见了。后来人们听说她虽然成了寡妇，可是既不愿意离开修道院，也不肯出家作修女，直到很多天后，有消息说，洛塔里奥后悔不迭，已经在洛特雷克大人同贡萨洛·费尔南德斯·德科尔多瓦大将军争夺那不勒斯王国的一场战斗中阵亡，她才出了家，并且几天之后在忧郁和悲伤中结束了自己的生命。这就是一场由荒谬引起的悲剧中几个人的结局。

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“我觉得这本书还不错，”神甫说，“不过我不能相信这是真事。如果是编的，那么这位作者编得并不好，因为无法想象世界上有像安塞尔莫这样愚蠢的丈夫，竟付出如此大的代价去考验妻子。在一个美男子和一位贵夫人之间，有可能发生这种情况，然而在丈夫和妻子之间，这是根本不可能的。至于叙述的方式，我还算喜欢。”

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There remained but little more of the novel to be read, when Sancho Panza burst forth in wild excitement from the garret where Don Quixote was lying, shouting, “Run, sirs! quick; and help my master, who is in the thick of the toughest and stiffest battle I ever laid eyes on. By the living God he has given the giant, the enemy of my lady the Princess Micomicona, such a slash that he has sliced his head clean off as if it were a turnip.”

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“What are you talking about, brother?” said the curate, pausing as he was about to read the remainder of the novel. “Are you in your senses, Sancho? How the devil can it be as you say, when the giant is two thousand leagues away?”

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Here they heard a loud noise in the chamber, and Don Quixote shouting out, “Stand, thief, brigand, villain; now I have got thee, and thy scimitar shall not avail thee!” And then it seemed as though he were slashing vigorously at the wall.

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“Don’t stop to listen,” said Sancho, “but go in and part them or help my master: though there is no need of that now, for no doubt the giant is dead by this time and giving account to God of his past wicked life; for I saw the blood flowing on the ground, and the head cut off and fallen on one side, and it is as big as a large wine-skin.”

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“May I die,” said the landlord at this, “if Don Quixote or Don Devil has not been slashing some of the skins of red wine that stand full at his bed’s head, and the spilt wine must be what this good fellow takes for blood;” and so saying he went into the room and the rest after him, and there they found Don Quixote in the strangest costume in the world. He was in his shirt, which was not long enough in front to cover his thighs completely and was six fingers shorter behind; his legs were very long and lean, covered with hair, and anything but clean; on his head he had a little greasy red cap that belonged to the host, round his left arm he had rolled the blanket of the bed, to which Sancho, for reasons best known to himself, owed a grudge, and in his right hand he held his unsheathed sword, with which he was slashing about on all sides, uttering exclamations as if he were actually fighting some giant: and the best of it was his eyes were not open, for he was fast asleep, and dreaming that he was doing battle with the giant. For his imagination was so wrought upon by the adventure he was going to accomplish, that it made him dream he had already reached the kingdom of Micomicon, and was engaged in combat with his enemy; and believing he was laying on the giant, he had given so many sword cuts to the skins that the whole room was full of wine. On seeing this the landlord was so enraged that he fell on Don Quixote, and with his clenched fist began to pummel him in such a way, that if Cardenio and the curate had not dragged him off, he would have brought the war of the giant to an end. But in spite of all the poor gentleman never woke until the barber brought a great pot of cold water from the well and flung it with one dash all over his body, on which Don Quixote woke up, but not so completely as to understand what was the matter. Dorothea, seeing how short and slight his attire was, would not go in to witness the battle between her champion and her opponent. As for Sancho, he went searching all over the floor for the head of the giant, and not finding it he said, “I see now that it’s all enchantment in this house; for the last time, on this very spot where I am now, I got ever so many thumps without knowing who gave them to me, or being able to see anybody; and now this head is not to be seen anywhere about, though I saw it cut off with my own eyes and the blood running from the body as if from a fountain.”

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“What blood and fountains are you talking about, enemy of God and his saints?” said the landlord. “Don’t you see, you thief, that the blood and the fountain are only these skins here that have been stabbed and the red wine swimming all over the room? — and I wish I saw the soul of him that stabbed them swimming in hell.”

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“I know nothing about that,” said Sancho; “all I know is it will be my bad luck that through not finding this head my county will melt away like salt in water;" — for Sancho awake was worse than his master asleep, so much had his master’s promises addled his wits.

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The landlord was beside himself at the coolness of the squire and the mischievous doings of the master, and swore it should not be like the last time when they went without paying; and that their privileges of chivalry should not hold good this time to let one or other of them off without paying, even to the cost of the plugs that would have to be put to the damaged wine-skins. The curate was holding Don Quixote’s hands, who, fancying he had now ended the adventure and was in the presence of the Princess Micomicona, knelt before the curate and said, “Exalted and beauteous lady, your highness may live from this day forth fearless of any harm this base being could do you; and I too from this day forth am released from the promise I gave you, since by the help of God on high and by the favour of her by whom I live and breathe, I have fulfilled it so successfully.”

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“Did not I say so?” said Sancho on hearing this. “You see I wasn’t drunk; there you see my master has already salted the giant; there’s no doubt about the bulls; my county is all right!”

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Who could have helped laughing at the absurdities of the pair, master and man? And laugh they did, all except the landlord, who cursed himself; but at length the barber, Cardenio, and the curate contrived with no small trouble to get Don Quixote on the bed, and he fell asleep with every appearance of excessive weariness. They left him to sleep, and came out to the gate of the inn to console Sancho Panza on not having found the head of the giant; but much more work had they to appease the landlord, who was furious at the sudden death of his wine-skins; and said the landlady half scolding, half crying, “At an evil moment and in an unlucky hour he came into my house, this knight-errant — would that I had never set eyes on him, for dear he has cost me; the last time he went off with the overnight score against him for supper, bed, straw, and barley, for himself and his squire and a hack and an ass, saying he was a knight adventurer — God send unlucky adventures to him and all the adventurers in the world — and therefore not bound to pay anything, for it was so settled by the knight-errantry tariff: and then, all because of him, came the other gentleman and carried off my tail, and gives it back more than two cuartillos the worse, all stripped of its hair, so that it is no use for my husband’s purpose; and then, for a finishing touch to all, to burst my wine-skins and spill my wine! I wish I saw his own blood spilt! But let him not deceive himself, for, by the bones of my father and the shade of my mother, they shall pay me down every quarts; or my name is not what it is, and I am not my father’s daughter.” All this and more to the same effect the landlady delivered with great irritation, and her good maid Maritornes backed her up, while the daughter held her peace and smiled from time to time. The curate smoothed matters by promising to make good all losses to the best of his power, not only as regarded the wine-skins but also the wine, and above all the depreciation of the tail which they set such store by. Dorothea comforted Sancho, telling him that she pledged herself, as soon as it should appear certain that his master had decapitated the giant, and she found herself peacefully established in her kingdom, to bestow upon him the best county there was in it. With this Sancho consoled himself, and assured the princess she might rely upon it that he had seen the head of the giant, and more by token it had a beard that reached to the girdle, and that if it was not to be seen now it was because everything that happened in that house went by enchantment, as he himself had proved the last time he had lodged there. Dorothea said she fully believed it, and that he need not be uneasy, for all would go well and turn out as he wished. All therefore being appeased, the curate was anxious to go on with the novel, as he saw there was but little more left to read. Dorothea and the others begged him to finish it, and he, as he was willing to please them, and enjoyed reading it himself, continued the tale in these words:

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The result was, that from the confidence Anselmo felt in Camilla’s virtue, he lived happy and free from anxiety, and Camilla purposely looked coldly on Lothario, that Anselmo might suppose her feelings towards him to be the opposite of what they were; and the better to support the position, Lothario begged to be excused from coming to the house, as the displeasure with which Camilla regarded his presence was plain to be seen. But the befooled Anselmo said he would on no account allow such a thing, and so in a thousand ways he became the author of his own dishonour, while he believed he was insuring his happiness. Meanwhile the satisfaction with which Leonela saw herself empowered to carry on her amour reached such a height that, regardless of everything else, she followed her inclinations unrestrainedly, feeling confident that her mistress would screen her, and even show her how to manage it safely. At last one night Anselmo heard footsteps in Leonela’s room, and on trying to enter to see who it was, he found that the door was held against him, which made him all the more determined to open it; and exerting his strength he forced it open, and entered the room in time to see a man leaping through the window into the street. He ran quickly to seize him or discover who he was, but he was unable to effect either purpose, for Leonela flung her arms round him crying, “Be calm, senor; do not give way to passion or follow him who has escaped from this; he belongs to me, and in fact he is my husband.”

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Anselmo would not believe it, but blind with rage drew a dagger and threatened to stab Leonela, bidding her tell the truth or he would kill her. She, in her fear, not knowing what she was saying, exclaimed, “Do not kill me, senor, for I can tell you things more important than any you can imagine.”

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“Tell me then at once or thou diest,” said Anselmo.

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“It would be impossible for me now,” said Leonela, “I am so agitated: leave me till to-morrow, and then you shall hear from me what will fill you with astonishment; but rest assured that he who leaped through the window is a young man of this city, who has given me his promise to become my husband.”

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Anselmo was appeased with this, and was content to wait the time she asked of him, for he never expected to hear anything against Camilla, so satisfied and sure of her virtue was he; and so he quitted the room, and left Leonela locked in, telling her she should not come out until she had told him all she had to make known to him. He went at once to see Camilla, and tell her, as he did, all that had passed between him and her handmaid, and the promise she had given him to inform him matters of serious importance.

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There is no need of saying whether Camilla was agitated or not, for so great was her fear and dismay, that, making sure, as she had good reason to do, that Leonela would tell Anselmo all she knew of her faithlessness, she had not the courage to wait and see if her suspicions were confirmed; and that same night, as soon as she thought that Anselmo was asleep, she packed up the most valuable jewels she had and some money, and without being observed by anybody escaped from the house and betook herself to Lothario’s , to whom she related what had occurred, imploring him to convey her to some place of safety or fly with her where they might be safe from Anselmo. The state of perplexity to which Camilla reduced Lothario was such that he was unable to utter a word in reply, still less to decide upon what he should do. At length he resolved to conduct her to a convent of which a sister of his was prioress; Camilla agreed to this, and with the speed which the circumstances demanded, Lothario took her to the convent and left her there, and then himself quitted the city without letting anyone know of his departure.

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As soon as daylight came Anselmo, without missing Camilla from his side, rose cager to learn what Leonela had to tell him, and hastened to the room where he had locked her in. He opened the door, entered, but found no Leonela; all he found was some sheets knotted to the window, a plain proof that she had let herself down from it and escaped. He returned, uneasy, to tell Camilla, but not finding her in bed or anywhere in the house he was lost in amazement. He asked the servants of the house about her, but none of them could give him any explanation. As he was going in search of Camilla it happened by chance that he observed her boxes were lying open, and that the greater part of her jewels were gone; and now he became fully aware of his disgrace, and that Leonela was not the cause of his misfortune; and, just as he was, without delaying to dress himself completely, he repaired, sad at heart and dejected, to his friend Lothario to make known his sorrow to him; but when he failed to find him and the servants reported that he had been absent from his house all night and had taken with him all the money he had, he felt as though he were losing his senses; and to make all complete on returning to his own house he found it deserted and empty, not one of all his servants, male or female, remaining in it. He knew not what to think, or say, or do, and his reason seemed to be deserting him little by little. He reviewed his position, and saw himself in a moment left without wife, friend, or servants, abandoned, he felt, by the heaven above him, and more than all robbed of his honour, for in Camilla’s disappearance he saw his own ruin. After long reflection he resolved at last to go to his friend’s village, where he had been staying when he afforded opportunities for the contrivance of this complication of misfortune. He locked the doors of his house, mounted his horse, and with a broken spirit set out on his journey; but he had hardly gone half-way when, harassed by his reflections, he had to dismount and tie his horse to a tree, at the foot of which he threw himself, giving vent to piteous heartrending sighs; and there he remained till nearly nightfall, when he observed a man approaching on horseback from the city, of whom, after saluting him, he asked what was the news in Florence.

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The citizen replied, “The strangest that have been heard for many a day; for it is reported abroad that Lothario, the great friend of the wealthy Anselmo, who lived at San Giovanni, carried off last night Camilla, the wife of Anselmo, who also has disappeared. All this has been told by a maid-servant of Camilla’s , whom the governor found last night lowering herself by a sheet from the windows of Anselmo’s house. I know not indeed, precisely, how the affair came to pass; all I know is that the whole city is wondering at the occurrence, for no one could have expected a thing of the kind, seeing the great and intimate friendship that existed between them, so great, they say, that they were called ‘The Two Friends.’”

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“Is it known at all,” said Anselmo, “what road Lothario and Camilla took?”

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“Not in the least,” said the citizen, “though the governor has been very active in searching for them.”

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“God speed you, senor,” said Anselmo.

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“God be with you,” said the citizen and went his way.

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This disastrous intelligence almost robbed Anselmo not only of his senses but of his life. He got up as well as he was able and reached the house of his friend, who as yet knew nothing of his misfortune, but seeing him come pale, worn, and haggard, perceived that he was suffering some heavy affliction. Anselmo at once begged to be allowed to retire to rest, and to be given writing materials. His wish was complied with and he was left lying down and alone, for he desired this, and even that the door should be locked. Finding himself alone he so took to heart the thought of his misfortune that by the signs of death he felt within him he knew well his life was drawing to a close, and therefore he resolved to leave behind him a declaration of the cause of his strange end. He began to write, but before he had put down all he meant to say, his breath failed him and he yielded up his life, a victim to the suffering which his ill-advised curiosity had entailed upon him. The master of the house observing that it was now late and that Anselmo did not call, determined to go in and ascertain if his indisposition was increasing, and found him lying on his face, his body partly in the bed, partly on the writing-table, on which he lay with the written paper open and the pen still in his hand. Having first called to him without receiving any answer, his host approached him, and taking him by the hand, found that it was cold, and saw that he was dead. Greatly surprised and distressed he summoned the household to witness the sad fate which had befallen Anselmo; and then he read the paper, the handwriting of which he recognised as his, and which contained these words:

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“A foolish and ill-advised desire has robbed me of life. If the news of my death should reach the ears of Camilla, let her know that I forgive her, for she was not bound to perform miracles, nor ought I to have required her to perform them; and since I have been the author of my own dishonour, there is no reason why — ”

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So far Anselmo had written, and thus it was plain that at this point, before he could finish what he had to say, his life came to an end. The next day his friend sent intelligence of his death to his relatives, who had already ascertained his misfortune, as well as the convent where Camilla lay almost on the point of accompanying her husband on that inevitable journey, not on account of the tidings of his death, but because of those she received of her lover’s departure. Although she saw herself a widow, it is said she refused either to quit the convent or take the veil, until, not long afterwards, intelligence reached her that Lothario had been killed in a battle in which M. de Lautrec had been recently engaged with the Great Captain Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordova in the kingdom of Naples, whither her too late repentant lover had repaired. On learning this Camilla took the veil, and shortly afterwards died, worn out by grief and melancholy. This was the end of all three, an end that came of a thoughtless beginning.

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“I like this novel,” said the curate; “but I cannot persuade myself of its truth; and if it has been invented, the author’s invention is faulty, for it is impossible to imagine any husband so foolish as to try such a costly experiment as Anselmo’s . If it had been represented as occurring between a gallant and his mistress it might pass; but between husband and wife there is something of an impossibility about it. As to the way in which the story is told, however, I have no fault to find.”

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