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堂吉诃德|Don Quixote

Part 2 第2章|Part 2 Chapter 1

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 塞万提斯] 阅读：[44687]
《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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故事说到唐吉诃德、神甫和理发师听到喊声，那是唐吉诃德的外甥女和女管家冲桑乔喊的。桑乔非要进来看望唐吉诃德，她们把住门不让进，还说：

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“你这个笨蛋进来干什么？回你自己家去，兄弟，不是别人，正是你骗了我们大人，还带着他到处乱跑。”

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桑乔说道：

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“真是魔鬼夫人！被骗被带着到处乱跑的是我，而不是你们主人。是他带着我去了那些地方，你们自己弄糊涂了。他许诺说给我一个岛屿，把我骗出了家，我到现在还等着那个岛屿呢。”

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“让那些破岛屿噎死你！”外甥女说，“混蛋桑乔，岛屿是什么东西？是吃的吗？你这个馋货、饭桶！”

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“不是吃的，”桑乔说，“是我可以管理得比四个市政长官还好的一种东西。”

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“即使这样，”女管家说，“你也别进来，你这个一肚子坏水的家伙。你去管好你的家，种好你那点地，别想要什么岛不岛的了。”

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神甫和理发师饶有兴趣地听着三个人的对话，可唐吉诃德怕桑乔把他们那堆傻事都和盘托出，有损自己的名誉，就叫桑乔和那两个女人别嚷嚷了，让桑乔进来。桑乔进来了，神甫和理发师起身告辞。他们见唐吉诃德头脑里那些胡思乱想根深蒂固，仍沉湎于骑士的愚蠢念头，不禁对唐吉诃德恢复健康感到绝望了。神甫对理发师说：

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“你看着吧，伙计，说不定在咱们想不到的什么时候，咱们这位英雄就又会出去展翅高飞了。”

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“我对此丝毫也不怀疑，”理发师说，“不过，侍从的头脑竟如此简单，甚至比骑士的疯癫更让我感到惊奇。他认准了那个岛屿，我估计咱们就是再费力也不会让他打消这个念头了。”

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“上帝会解救他的。”神甫说，“咱们瞧着吧，这两个人全都走火入魔了，简直如出一辙。主人的疯癫若是没有侍从的愚蠢相配，那就不值得一提了。”

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“是这样，”理发师说，“我很愿意听听他们俩现在谈什么。”

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“我肯定，”神甫说，“唐吉诃德的外甥女或女管家事后肯定会告诉咱们。照她们俩的习惯，她们不会不偷听的。”

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唐吉诃德让桑乔进了房间，关上门。房间里只有他们俩。

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唐吉诃德对桑乔说：

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“你刚才说是我把你从家里骗出来的，我听了很难受。你知道，我也并没有留在家里呀。咱们一起出去，一起赶路，一起巡视，咱们俩命运相同。你被扔了一回，可我也被打过上百次，比你还厉害呢。”

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“这也是应该的，”桑乔说，“照您自己说的，游侠骑士遇到的不幸总是比侍从遇到的多。”

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“你错了，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“有句话说：quando　caput　do－Let……”

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“我只懂得咱们自己的语言。”桑乔说。

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“我的意思是说，”唐吉诃德说，“头痛全身痛。我是你的主人，所以我是你的脑袋；你是我的身体一部分，因为你是我的侍从。从这个道理上讲，我遇到了不幸，或者说如果我遇到了不幸，你也会感到疼痛。你如果遇到了不幸，我也一样疼痛。”

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“理应如此，”桑乔说，“可是我这个身体部分被人扔的时候，您作为我的脑袋却在墙头后面看着我被扔上去，并没有感到任何痛苦呀，它本来也应该感到疼痛嘛。”

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“你是想说，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“他们扔你的时候，我没感到疼痛吗？如果你是这个意思的话，可别这么说，也别这么想。我的灵魂当时比你的身体疼得还厉害。不过，咱们现在先不谈这个，等以后有时间再来确定这件事吧。咱们现在说正题。你告诉我，桑乔，现在这儿的人是怎么议论我的？平民百姓都怎么说，贵族和骑士们又怎么说？他们对我的勇气、我的事迹、我的礼貌是怎么说的？他们对我要在这个世界上重振游侠骑士之道是怎么评论的？一句话，我想让你告诉我你所听到的一切。你原原本本地告诉我，不要加好听的，也不要去掉不好听的。忠实的仆人应该据实向主人报告，不要因为企图奉承而有所夸张，也不要因为盲目尊崇而有所隐瞒。你该知道，桑乔，如果当初君主们听到的都是不折不扣的事实，没有任何恭维的成分，那么世道就会不一样，就会是比我们现在更为‘铁实’的时代，也就是现在常说的黄金时代。桑乔，请你按照我的告诫，仔细认真地把你知道的有关我刚才问到的那些情况告诉我吧。”

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“我很愿意这样做，我的大人，”桑乔说，“不过我有个条件，就是不管我说什么，你都不要生气，因为你想让我据实说，不加任何修饰。”

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“我不会生气的，”唐吉诃德说，“你放开了讲，桑乔，不必绕弯子。”

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“我首先要说的就是，”桑乔说，“老百姓把您看成最大的疯子，说我也愚蠢得够呛。贵族们说，您本来就不是贵族圈子里的人，就凭那点儿家世，那几亩地，还有身上那两片破布，竟给自己加了个‘唐’，当了什么骑士。而骑士们说，他们不愿意让贵族与他们作对，特别是那种用蒸汽擦皮鞋①、用绿布补黑袜子的只配当侍从的贵族。”

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①当时没有鞋油，只好在皮鞋上抹些水、油和蛋清，再用蒸汽熏。

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“这不是说我，”唐吉诃德说，“我从来都是穿得整整齐齐，没带补丁的。衣服破了，那倒有可能，不过那是甲胄磨破的，而不是穿破的。”

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“至于说到您的勇气、礼貌、事迹等事情，”桑乔接着说，“大家就看法不一了。有的人说：‘疯疯癫癫的，不过挺滑稽。’另外一些人说：‘勇敢，却又不幸。’还有人说：‘有礼貌，可是不得体。’还说了许多话，连您带我都说得体无完肤。”

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“你看，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“凡是出人头地的人，都会遭到谗害，历来很少或者根本没有名人不受恶毒攻击的。像尤利乌斯·凯撒，是个极其勇猛而又十分谨慎的统帅，却被说成野心勃勃，衣服和生活作风都不那么干净。亚历山大功盖天下，号称大帝，却有人说他爱酗酒；再说赫拉克勒斯，战果累累，却说他骄奢好色。高卢的阿马迪斯的兄弟加劳尔，有人议论他太好斗，又说阿马迪斯爱哭。所以桑乔，对这些好人都有那么多议论，我又何尝不是如此呢，你说的那些就属于这种情况。”

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“问题就在这儿，而且还不止是这些呀！”桑乔说。

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“那么，还有什么？”唐吉诃德问。

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“还有没说的呢，”桑乔说，“这些都算是简单的。如果您想了解所有那些攻击您的话，我可以马上给您找个人来，把所有那些话都告诉您，一点儿也不会漏下。昨天晚上巴托洛梅·卡拉斯科的儿子来了。他从萨拉曼卡学成归来，现在是学士了。我去迎接他的时候，他对我说您的事情已经编成书了，书名就叫《唐吉诃德》，还说书里也涉及到我，而且就用了桑乔·潘萨这个名字。托博索的杜尔西内亚也有，还有一些完全是咱们之间的事情。我吓得直画十字，不懂这个故事的作者怎么会知道了那些事情。”

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“我敢肯定，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“一定是某位会魔法的文人编了这个故事。他们要写什么，就不会有什么事能瞒住他们。”

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“怎么会又是文人又是魔法师呢！刚才，参孙·卡拉斯科学士，我就是这样称呼他的，他对我说，故事的作者叫锡德·哈迈德·贝伦赫纳①。”

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①桑乔把贝嫩赫利误说成贝伦赫纳，而贝伦赫纳是茄子的意思。

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“这是个摩尔人的名字。”唐吉诃德说。

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“是的，”桑乔说，“我听很多人说，摩尔人就喜欢贝伦赫纳。”

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“你大概是把这个‘锡德’的意思弄错了，桑乔。”唐吉诃德说，“在阿拉伯语里，锡德是‘大人’的意思。”

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“这完全可能，”桑乔说，“不过，您如果愿意让他到这儿来，我马上就去找。”

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“你如果能去找，那太好了，朋友。”唐吉诃德说，“你刚才说的那些让我心里一直惦记着。不把情况完全搞清楚，我就什么也不吃。”

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“那我就去找他。”桑乔说。

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桑乔离开主人去找那位学士，不一会儿就同那个人一起回来了。于是，三个人又开始了一场极其滑稽的对话。

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Cide Hamete Benengeli, in the Second Part of this history, and third sally of Don Quixote, says that the curate and the barber remained nearly a month without seeing him, lest they should recall or bring back to his recollection what had taken place. They did not, however, omit to visit his niece and housekeeper, and charge them to be careful to treat him with attention, and give him comforting things to eat, and such as were good for the heart and the brain, whence, it was plain to see, all his misfortune proceeded. The niece and housekeeper replied that they did so, and meant to do so with all possible care and assiduity, for they could perceive that their master was now and then beginning to show signs of being in his right mind. This gave great satisfaction to the curate and the barber, for they concluded they had taken the right course in carrying him off enchanted on the ox-cart, as has been described in the First Part of this great as well as accurate history, in the last chapter thereof. So they resolved to pay him a visit and test the improvement in his condition, although they thought it almost impossible that there could be any; and they agreed not to touch upon any point connected with knight-errantry so as not to run the risk of reopening wounds which were still so tender.

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They came to see him consequently, and found him sitting up in bed in a green baize waistcoat and a red Toledo cap, and so withered and dried up that he looked as if he had been turned into a mummy. They were very cordially received by him; they asked him after his health, and he talked to them about himself very naturally and in very well-chosen language. In the course of their conversation they fell to discussing what they call State-craft and systems of government, correcting this abuse and condemning that, reforming one practice and abolishing another, each of the three setting up for a new legislator, a modern Lycurgus, or a brand-new Solon; and so completely did they remodel the State, that they seemed to have thrust it into a furnace and taken out something quite different from what they had put in; and on all the subjects they dealt with, Don Quixote spoke with such good sense that the pair of examiners were fully convinced that he was quite recovered and in his full senses.

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The niece and housekeeper were present at the conversation and could not find words enough to express their thanks to God at seeing their master so clear in his mind; the curate, however, changing his original plan, which was to avoid touching upon matters of chivalry, resolved to test Don Quixote’s recovery thoroughly, and see whether it were genuine or not; and so, from one subject to another, he came at last to talk of the news that had come from the capital, and, among other things, he said it was considered certain that the Turk was coming down with a powerful fleet, and that no one knew what his purpose was, or when the great storm would burst; and that all Christendom was in apprehension of this, which almost every year calls us to arms, and that his Majesty had made provision for the security of the coasts of Naples and Sicily and the island of Malta.

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To this Don Quixote replied, “His Majesty has acted like a prudent warrior in providing for the safety of his realms in time, so that the enemy may not find him unprepared; but if my advice were taken I would recommend him to adopt a measure which at present, no doubt, his Majesty is very far from thinking of.”

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The moment the curate heard this he said to himself, “God keep thee in his hand, poor Don Quixote, for it seems to me thou art precipitating thyself from the height of thy madness into the profound abyss of thy simplicity.”

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But the barber, who had the same suspicion as the curate, asked Don Quixote what would be his advice as to the measures that he said ought to be adopted; for perhaps it might prove to be one that would have to be added to the list of the many impertinent suggestions that people were in the habit of offering to princes.

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“Mine, master shaver,” said Don Quixote, “will not be impertinent, but, on the contrary, pertinent.”

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“I don’t mean that,” said the barber, “but that experience has shown that all or most of the expedients which are proposed to his Majesty are either impossible, or absurd, or injurious to the King and to the kingdom.”

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“Mine, however,” replied Don Quixote, “is neither impossible nor absurd, but the easiest, the most reasonable, the readiest and most expeditious that could suggest itself to any projector’s mind.”

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“You take a long time to tell it, Senor Don Quixote,” said the curate.

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“I don’t choose to tell it here, now,” said Don Quixote, “and have it reach the ears of the lords of the council to-morrow morning, and some other carry off the thanks and rewards of my trouble.”

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“For my part,” said the barber, “I give my word here and before God that I will not repeat what your worship says, to King, Rook or earthly man — an oath I learned from the ballad of the curate, who, in the prelude, told the king of the thief who had robbed him of the hundred gold crowns and his pacing mule.”

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“I am not versed in stories,” said Don Quixote; “but I know the oath is a good one, because I know the barber to be an honest fellow.”

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“Even if he were not,” said the curate, “I will go bail and answer for him that in this matter he will be as silent as a dummy, under pain of paying any penalty that may be pronounced.”

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“And who will be security for you, senor curate?” said Don Quixote.

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“My profession,” replied the curate, “which is to keep secrets.”

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“Ods body!” said Don Quixote at this, “what more has his Majesty to do but to command, by public proclamation, all the knights-errant that are scattered over Spain to assemble on a fixed day in the capital, for even if no more than half a dozen come, there may be one among them who alone will suffice to destroy the entire might of the Turk. Give me your attention and follow me. Is it, pray, any new thing for a single knight-errant to demolish an army of two hundred thousand men, as if they all had but one throat or were made of sugar paste? Nay, tell me, how many histories are there filled with these marvels? If only (in an evil hour for me: I don’t speak for anyone else) the famous Don Belianis were alive now, or any one of the innumerable progeny of Amadis of Gaul! If any these were alive today, and were to come face to face with the Turk, by my faith, I would not give much for the Turk’s chance. But God will have regard for his people, and will provide some one, who, if not so valiant as the knights-errant of yore, at least will not be inferior to them in spirit; but God knows what I mean, and I say no more.”

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“Alas!” exclaimed the niece at this, “may I die if my master does not want to turn knight-errant again;” to which Don Quixote replied, “A knight-errant I shall die, and let the Turk come down or go up when he likes, and in as strong force as he can, once more I say, God knows what I mean.” But here the barber said, “I ask your worships to give me leave to tell a short story of something that happened in Seville, which comes so pat to the purpose just now that I should like greatly to tell it.” Don Quixote gave him leave, and the rest prepared to listen, and he began thus:

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“In the madhouse at Seville there was a man whom his relations had placed there as being out of his mind. He was a graduate of Osuna in canon law; but even if he had been of Salamanca, it was the opinion of most people that he would have been mad all the same. This graduate, after some years of confinement, took it into his head that he was sane and in his full senses, and under this impression wrote to the Archbishop, entreating him earnestly, and in very correct language, to have him released from the misery in which he was living; for by God’s mercy he had now recovered his lost reason, though his relations, in order to enjoy his property, kept him there, and, in spite of the truth, would make him out to be mad until his dying day. The Archbishop, moved by repeated sensible, well-written letters, directed one of his chaplains to make inquiry of the madhouse as to the truth of the licentiate’s statements, and to have an interview with the madman himself, and, if it should appear that he was in his senses, to take him out and restore him to liberty. The chaplain did so, and the governor assured him that the man was still mad, and that though he often spoke like a highly intelligent person, he would in the end break out into nonsense that in quantity and quality counterbalanced all the sensible things he had said before, as might be easily tested by talking to him. The chaplain resolved to try the experiment, and obtaining access to the madman conversed with him for an hour or more, during the whole of which time he never uttered a word that was incoherent or absurd, but, on the contrary, spoke so rationally that the chaplain was compelled to believe him to be sane. Among other things, he said the governor was against him, not to lose the presents his relations made him for reporting him still mad but with lucid intervals; and that the worst foe he had in his misfortune was his large property; for in order to enjoy it his enemies disparaged and threw doubts upon the mercy our Lord had shown him in turning him from a brute beast into a man. In short, he spoke in such a way that he cast suspicion on the governor, and made his relations appear covetous and heartless, and himself so rational that the chaplain determined to take him away with him that the Archbishop might see him, and ascertain for himself the truth of the matter. Yielding to this conviction, the worthy chaplain begged the governor to have the clothes in which the licentiate had entered the house given to him. The governor again bade him beware of what he was doing, as the licentiate was beyond a doubt still mad; but all his cautions and warnings were unavailing to dissuade the chaplain from taking him away. The governor, seeing that it was the order of the Archbishop, obeyed, and they dressed the licentiate in his own clothes, which were new and decent. He, as soon as he saw himself clothed like one in his senses, and divested of the appearance of a madman, entreated the chaplain to permit him in charity to go and take leave of his comrades the madmen. The chaplain said he would go with him to see what madmen there were in the house; so they went upstairs, and with them some of those who were present. Approaching a cage in which there was a furious madman, though just at that moment calm and quiet, the licentiate said to him, ‘Brother, think if you have any commands for me, for I am going home, as God has been pleased, in his infinite goodness and mercy, without any merit of mine, to restore me my reason. I am now cured and in my senses, for with God’s power nothing is impossible. Have strong hope and trust in him, for as he has restored me to my original condition, so likewise he will restore you if you trust in him. I will take care to send you some good things to eat; and be sure you eat them; for I would have you know I am convinced, as one who has gone through it, that all this madness of ours comes of having the stomach empty and the brains full of wind. Take courage! take courage! for despondency in misfortune breaks down health and brings on death.’

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“To all these words of the licentiate another madman in a cage opposite that of the furious one was listening; and raising himself up from an old mat on which he lay stark naked, he asked in a loud voice who it was that was going away cured and in his senses. The licentiate answered, ‘It is I, brother, who am going; I have now no need to remain here any longer, for which I return infinite thanks to Heaven that has had so great mercy upon me.’

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“‘Mind what you are saying, licentiate; don’t let the devil deceive you,’ replied the madman. ‘Keep quiet, stay where you are, and you will save yourself the trouble of coming back.’

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“‘I know I am cured,’ returned the licentiate, ‘and that I shall not have to go stations again.’

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“‘You cured!’ said the madman; ‘well, we shall see; God be with you; but I swear to you by Jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth, that for this crime alone, which Seville is committing to-day in releasing you from this house, and treating you as if you were in your senses, I shall have to inflict such a punishment on it as will be remembered for ages and ages, amen. Dost thou not know, thou miserable little licentiate, that I can do it, being, as I say, Jupiter the Thunderer, who hold in my hands the fiery bolts with which I am able and am wont to threaten and lay waste the world? But in one way only will I punish this ignorant town, and that is by not raining upon it, nor on any part of its district or territory, for three whole years, to be reckoned from the day and moment when this threat is pronounced. Thou free, thou cured, thou in thy senses! and I mad, I disordered, I bound! I will as soon think of sending rain as of hanging myself.

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“Those present stood listening to the words and exclamations of the madman; but our licentiate, turning to the chaplain and seizing him by the hands, said to him, ‘Be not uneasy, senor; attach no importance to what this madman has said; for if he is Jupiter and will not send rain, I, who am Neptune, the father and god of the waters, will rain as often as it pleases me and may be needful.’

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“The governor and the bystanders laughed, and at their laughter the chaplain was half ashamed, and he replied, ‘For all that, Senor Neptune, it will not do to vex Senor Jupiter; remain where you are, and some other day, when there is a better opportunity and more time, we will come back for you.’ So they stripped the licentiate, and he was left where he was; and that’s the end of the story.”

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“So that’s the story, master barber,” said Don Quixote, “which came in so pat to the purpose that you could not help telling it? Master shaver, master shaver! how blind is he who cannot see through a sieve. Is it possible that you do not know that comparisons of wit with wit, valour with valour, beauty with beauty, birth with birth, are always odious and unwelcome? I, master barber, am not Neptune, the god of the waters, nor do I try to make anyone take me for an astute man, for I am not one. My only endeavour is to convince the world of the mistake it makes in not reviving in itself the happy time when the order of knight-errantry was in the field. But our depraved age does not deserve to enjoy such a blessing as those ages enjoyed when knights-errant took upon their shoulders the defence of kingdoms, the protection of damsels, the succour of orphans and minors, the chastisement of the proud, and the recompense of the humble. With the knights of these days, for the most part, it is the damask, brocade, and rich stuffs they wear, that rustle as they go, not the chain mail of their armour; no knight now-a-days sleeps in the open field exposed to the inclemency of heaven, and in full panoply from head to foot; no one now takes a nap, as they call it, without drawing his feet out of the stirrups, and leaning upon his lance, as the knights-errant used to do; no one now, issuing from the wood, penetrates yonder mountains, and then treads the barren, lonely shore of the sea — mostly a tempestuous and stormy one — and finding on the beach a little bark without oars, sail, mast, or tackling of any kind, in the intrepidity of his heart flings himself into it and commits himself to the wrathful billows of the deep sea, that one moment lift him up to heaven and the next plunge him into the depths; and opposing his breast to the irresistible gale, finds himself, when he least expects it, three thousand leagues and more away from the place where he embarked; and leaping ashore in a remote and unknown land has adventures that deserve to be written, not on parchment, but on brass. But now sloth triumphs over energy, indolence over exertion, vice over virtue, arrogance over courage, and theory over practice in arms, which flourished and shone only in the golden ages and in knights-errant. For tell me, who was more virtuous and more valiant than the famous Amadis of Gaul? Who more discreet than Palmerin of England? Who more gracious and easy than Tirante el Blanco? Who more courtly than Lisuarte of Greece? Who more slashed or slashing than Don Belianis? Who more intrepid than Perion of Gaul? Who more ready to face danger than Felixmarte of Hircania? Who more sincere than Esplandian? Who more impetuous than Don Cirongilio of Thrace? Who more bold than Rodamonte? Who more prudent than King Sobrino? Who more daring than Reinaldos? Who more invincible than Roland? and who more gallant and courteous than Ruggiero, from whom the dukes of Ferrara of the present day are descended, according to Turpin in his ‘Cosmography.’ All these knights, and many more that I could name, senor curate, were knights-errant, the light and glory of chivalry. These, or such as these, I would have to carry out my plan, and in that case his Majesty would find himself well served and would save great expense, and the Turk would be left tearing his beard. And so I will stay where I am, as the chaplain does not take me away; and if Jupiter, as the barber has told us, will not send rain, here am I, and I will rain when I please. I say this that Master Basin may know that I understand him.”

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“Indeed, Senor Don Quixote,” said the barber, “I did not mean it in that way, and, so help me God, my intention was good, and your worship ought not to be vexed.”

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“As to whether I ought to be vexed or not,” returned Don Quixote, “I myself am the best judge.”

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Hereupon the curate observed, “I have hardly said a word as yet; and I would gladly be relieved of a doubt, arising from what Don Quixote has said, that worries and works my conscience.”

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“The senor curate has leave for more than that,” returned Don Quixote, “so he may declare his doubt, for it is not pleasant to have a doubt on one’s conscience.”

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“Well then, with that permission,” said the curate, “I say my doubt is that, all I can do, I cannot persuade myself that the whole pack of knights-errant you, Senor Don Quixote, have mentioned, were really and truly persons of flesh and blood, that ever lived in the world; on the contrary, I suspect it to be all fiction, fable, and falsehood, and dreams told by men awakened from sleep, or rather still half asleep.”

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“That is another mistake,” replied Don Quixote, “into which many have fallen who do not believe that there ever were such knights in the world, and I have often, with divers people and on divers occasions, tried to expose this almost universal error to the light of truth. Sometimes I have not been successful in my purpose, sometimes I have, supporting it upon the shoulders of the truth; which truth is so clear that I can almost say I have with my own eyes seen Amadis of Gaul, who was a man of lofty stature, fair complexion, with a handsome though black beard, of a countenance between gentle and stern in expression, sparing of words, slow to anger, and quick to put it away from him; and as I have depicted Amadis, so I could, I think, portray and describe all the knights-errant that are in all the histories in the world; for by the perception I have that they were what their histories describe, and by the deeds they did and the dispositions they displayed, it is possible, with the aid of sound philosophy, to deduce their features, complexion, and stature.”

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“How big, in your worship’s opinion, may the giant Morgante have been, Senor Don Quixote?” asked the barber.

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“With regard to giants,” replied Don Quixote, “opinions differ as to whether there ever were any or not in the world; but the Holy Scripture, which cannot err by a jot from the truth, shows us that there were, when it gives us the history of that big Philistine, Goliath, who was seven cubits and a half in height, which is a huge size. Likewise, in the island of Sicily, there have been found leg-bones and arm-bones so large that their size makes it plain that their owners were giants, and as tall as great towers; geometry puts this fact beyond a doubt. But, for all that, I cannot speak with certainty as to the size of Morgante, though I suspect he cannot have been very tall; and I am inclined to be of this opinion because I find in the history in which his deeds are particularly mentioned, that he frequently slept under a roof and as he found houses to contain him, it is clear that his bulk could not have been anything excessive.”

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“That is true,” said the curate, and yielding to the enjoyment of hearing such nonsense, he asked him what was his notion of the features of Reinaldos of Montalban, and Don Roland and the rest of the Twelve Peers of France, for they were all knights-errant.

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“As for Reinaldos,” replied Don Quixote, “I venture to say that he was broad-faced, of ruddy complexion, with roguish and somewhat prominent eyes, excessively punctilious and touchy, and given to the society of thieves and scapegraces. With regard to Roland, or Rotolando, or Orlando (for the histories call him by all these names), I am of opinion, and hold, that he was of middle height, broad-shouldered, rather bow-legged, swarthy-complexioned, red-bearded, with a hairy body and a severe expression of countenance, a man of few words, but very polite and well-bred.”

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“If Roland was not a more graceful person than your worship has described,” said the curate, “it is no wonder that the fair Lady Angelica rejected him and left him for the gaiety, liveliness, and grace of that budding-bearded little Moor to whom she surrendered herself; and she showed her sense in falling in love with the gentle softness of Medoro rather than the roughness of Roland.”

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“That Angelica, senor curate,” returned Don Quixote, “was a giddy damsel, flighty and somewhat wanton, and she left the world as full of her vagaries as of the fame of her beauty. She treated with scorn a thousand gentlemen, men of valour and wisdom, and took up with a smooth-faced sprig of a page, without fortune or fame, except such reputation for gratitude as the affection he bore his friend got for him. The great poet who sang her beauty, the famous Ariosto, not caring to sing her adventures after her contemptible surrender (which probably were not over and above creditable), dropped her where he says:

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How she received the sceptre of Cathay, Some bard of defter quill may sing some day;

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and this was no doubt a kind of prophecy, for poets are also called vates, that is to say diviners; and its truth was made plain; for since then a famous Andalusian poet has lamented and sung her tears, and another famous and rare poet, a Castilian, has sung her beauty.”

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