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Chapter 3

  • **Wherein is related the droll way in which Don Quixote had himself dubbed _night**
  • Harassed by this reflection, he made haste with his scanty pothouse supper,
  • and having finished it called the landlord, and shutting himself into th_table with him, fell on his knees before him, saying, "From this spot I ris_ot, valiant knight, until your courtesy grants me the boon I seek, one tha_ill redound to your praise and the benefit of the human race." The landlord,
  • seeing his guest at his feet and hearing a speech of this kind, stood starin_t him in bewilderment, not knowing what to do or say, and entreating him t_ise, but all to no purpose until he had agreed to grant the boon demanded o_im. "I looked for no less, my lord, from your High Magnificence," replied Do_uixote, "and I have to tell you that the boon I have asked and you_iberality has granted is that you shall dub me knight to-morrow morning, an_hat to-night I shall watch my arms in the chapel of this your castle; thu_omorrow, as I have said, will be accomplished what I so much desire, enablin_e lawfully to roam through all the four quarters of the world seekin_dventures on behalf of those in distress, as is the duty of chivalry and o_nights-errant like myself, whose ambition is directed to such deeds."
  • The landlord, who, as has been mentioned, was something of a wag, and ha_lready some suspicion of his guest's want of wits, was quite convinced of i_n hearing talk of this kind from him, and to make sport for the night h_etermined to fall in with his humour. So he told him he was quite right i_ursuing the object he had in view, and that such a motive was natural an_ecoming in cavaliers as distinguished as he seemed and his gallant bearin_howed him to be; and that he himself in his younger days had followed th_ame honourable calling, roaming in quest of adventures in various parts o_he world, among others the Curing-grounds of Malaga, the Isles of Riaran, th_recinct of Seville, the Little Market of Segovia, the Olivera of Valencia,
  • the Rondilla of Granada, the Strand of San Lucar, the Colt of Cordova, th_averns of Toledo, and divers other quarters, where he had proved th_imbleness of his feet and the lightness of his fingers, doing many wrongs,
  • cheating many widows, ruining maids and swindling minors, and, in short,
  • bringing himself under the notice of almost every tribunal and court o_ustice in Spain; until at last he had retired to this castle of his, where h_as living upon his property and upon that of others; and where he receive_ll knights-errant of whatever rank or condition they might be, all for th_reat love he bore them and that they might share their substance with him i_eturn for his benevolence. He told him, moreover, that in this castle of hi_here was no chapel in which he could watch his armour, as it had been pulle_own in order to be rebuilt, but that in a case of necessity it might, h_new, be watched anywhere, and he might watch it that night in a courtyard o_he castle, and in the morning, God willing, the requisite ceremonies might b_erformed so as to have him dubbed a knight, and so thoroughly dubbed tha_obody could be more so. He asked if he had any money with him, to which Do_uixote replied that he had not a farthing, as in the histories of knights-
  • errant he had never read of any of them carrying any. On this point th_andlord told him he was mistaken; for, though not recorded in the histories,
  • because in the author's opinion there was no need to mention anything s_bvious and necessary as money and clean shirts, it was not to be suppose_herefore that they did not carry them, and he might regard it as certain an_stablished that all knights-errant (about whom there were so many full an_nimpeachable books) carried well-furnished purses in case of emergency, an_ikewise carried shirts and a little box of ointment to cure the wounds the_eceived. For in those plains and deserts where they engaged in combat an_ame out wounded, it was not always that there was some one to cure them,
  • unless indeed they had for a friend some sage magician to succour them at onc_y fetching through the air upon a cloud some damsel or dwarf with a vial o_ater of such virtue that by tasting one drop of it they were cured of thei_urts and wounds in an instant and left as sound as if they had not receive_ny damage whatever. But in case this should not occur, the knights of ol_ook care to see that their squires were provided with money and othe_equisites, such as lint and ointments for healing purposes; and when i_appened that knights had no squires (which was rarely and seldom the case)
  • they themselves carried everything in cunning saddle-bags that were hardl_een on the horse's croup, as if it were something else of more importance,
  • because, unless for some such reason, carrying saddle-bags was not ver_avourably regarded among knights-errant. He therefore advised him (and, a_is godson so soon to be, he might even command him) never from that tim_orth to travel without money and the usual requirements, and he would fin_he advantage of them when he least expected it.
  • Don Quixote promised to follow his advice scrupulously, and it was arrange_orthwith that he should watch his armour in a large yard at one side of th_nn; so, collecting it all together, Don Quixote placed it on a trough tha_tood by the side of a well, and bracing his buckler on his arm he grasped hi_ance and began with a stately air to march up and down in front of th_rough, and as he began his march night began to fall.
  • The landlord told all the people who were in the inn about the craze of hi_uest, the watching of the armour, and the dubbing ceremony he contemplated.
  • Full of wonder at so strange a form of madness, they flocked to see it from _istance, and observed with what composure he sometimes paced up and down, o_ometimes, leaning on his lance, gazed on his armour without taking his eye_ff it for ever so long; and as the night closed in with a light from the moo_o brilliant that it might vie with his that lent it, everything the novic_night did was plainly seen by all.
  • Meanwhile one of the carriers who were in the inn thought fit to water hi_eam, and it was necessary to remove Don Quixote's armour as it lay on th_rough; but he seeing the other approach hailed him in a loud voice, "O thou,
  • whoever thou art, rash knight that comest to lay hands on the armour of th_ost valorous errant that ever girt on sword, have a care what thou dost;
  • touch it not unless thou wouldst lay down thy life as the penalty of th_ashness." The carrier gave no heed to these words (and he would have don_etter to heed them if he had been heedful of his health), but seizing it b_he straps flung the armour some distance from him. Seeing this, Don Quixot_aised his eyes to heaven, and fixing his thoughts, apparently, upon his lad_ulcinea, exclaimed, "Aid me, lady mine, in this the first encounter tha_resents itself to this breast which thou holdest in subjection; let not th_avour and protection fail me in this first jeopardy;" and, with these word_nd others to the same purpose, dropping his buckler he lifted his lance wit_oth hands and with it smote such a blow on the carrier's head that h_tretched him on the ground, so stunned that had he followed it up with _econd there would have been no need of a surgeon to cure him. This done, h_icked up his armour and returned to his beat with the same serenity a_efore.
  • Shortly after this, another, not knowing what had happened (for the carrie_till lay senseless), came with the same object of giving water to his mules,
  • and was proceeding to remove the armour in order to clear the trough, when Do_uixote, without uttering a word or imploring aid from anyone, once mor_ropped his buckler and once more lifted his lance, and without actuall_reaking the second carrier's head into pieces, made more than three of it,
  • for he laid it open in four. At the noise all the people of the inn ran to th_pot, and among them the landlord. Seeing this, Don Quixote braced his buckle_n his arm, and with his hand on his sword exclaimed, "O Lady of Beauty,
  • strength and support of my faint heart, it is time for thee to turn the eye_f thy greatness on this thy captive knight on the brink of so mighty a_dventure." By this he felt himself so inspired that he would not hav_linched if all the carriers in the world had assailed him. The comrades o_he wounded perceiving the plight they were in began from a distance to showe_tones on Don Quixote, who screened himself as best he could with his buckler,
  • not daring to quit the trough and leave his armour unprotected. The landlor_houted to them to leave him alone, for he had already told them that he wa_ad, and as a madman he would not be accountable even if he killed them all.
  • Still louder shouted Don Quixote, calling them knaves and traitors, and th_ord of the castle, who allowed knights-errant to be treated in this fashion,
  • a villain and a low-born knight whom, had he received the order of knighthood,
  • he would call to account for his treachery. "But of you," he cried, "base an_ile rabble, I make no account; fling, strike, come on, do all ye can agains_e, ye shall see what the reward of your folly and insolence will be." This h_ttered with so much spirit and boldness that he filled his assailants with _errible fear, and as much for this reason as at the persuasion of th_andlord they left off stoning him, and he allowed them to carry off th_ounded, and with the same calmness and composure as before resumed the watc_ver his armour.
  • But these freaks of his guest were not much to the liking of the landlord, s_e determined to cut matters short and confer upon him at once the unluck_rder of knighthood before any further misadventure could occur; so, going u_o him, he apologised for the rudeness which, without his knowledge, had bee_ffered to him by these low people, who, however, had been well punished fo_heir audacity. As he had already told him, he said, there was no chapel i_he castle, nor was it needed for what remained to be done, for, as h_nderstood the ceremonial of the order, the whole point of being dubbed _night lay in the accolade and in the slap on the shoulder, and that could b_dministered in the middle of a field; and that he had now done all that wa_eedful as to watching the armour, for all requirements were satisfied by _atch of two hours only, while he had been more than four about it. Do_uixote believed it all, and told him he stood there ready to obey him, and t_ake an end of it with as much despatch as possible; for, if he were agai_ttacked, and felt himself to be dubbed knight, he would not, he thought,
  • leave a soul alive in the castle, except such as out of respect he might spar_t his bidding.
  • Thus warned and menaced, the castellan forthwith brought out a book in whic_e used to enter the straw and barley he served out to the carriers, and, wit_ lad carrying a candle-end, and the two damsels already mentioned, h_eturned to where Don Quixote stood, and bade him kneel down. Then, readin_rom his account-book as if he were repeating some devout prayer, in th_iddle of his delivery he raised his hand and gave him a sturdy blow on th_eck, and then, with his own sword, a smart slap on the shoulder, all th_hile muttering between his teeth as if he was saying his prayers. Having don_his, he directed one of the ladies to gird on his sword, which she did wit_reat self-possession and gravity, and not a little was required to prevent _urst of laughter at each stage of the ceremony; but what they had alread_een of the novice knight's prowess kept their laughter within bounds. O_irding him with the sword the worthy lady said to him, "May God make you_orship a very fortunate knight, and grant you success in battle." Don Quixot_sked her name in order that he might from that time forward know to whom h_as beholden for the favour he had received, as he meant to confer upon he_ome portion of the honour he acquired by the might of his arm. She answere_ith great humility that she was called La Tolosa, and that she was th_aughter of a cobbler of Toledo who lived in the stalls of Sanchobienaya, an_hat wherever she might be she would serve and esteem him as her lord. Do_uixote said in reply that she would do him a favour if thenceforward sh_ssumed the "Don" and called herself Dona Tolosa. She promised she would, an_hen the other buckled on his spur, and with her followed almost the sam_onversation as with the lady of the sword. He asked her name, and she said i_as La Molinera, and that she was the daughter of a respectable miller o_ntequera; and of her likewise Don Quixote requested that she would adopt the
  • "Don" and call herself Dona Molinera, making offers to her further service_nd favours.
  • Having thus, with hot haste and speed, brought to a conclusion these never-
  • till-now-seen ceremonies, Don Quixote was on thorns until he saw himself o_orseback sallying forth in quest of adventures; and saddling Rocinante a_nce he mounted, and embracing his host, as he returned thanks for hi_indness in knighting him, he addressed him in language so extraordinary tha_t is impossible to convey an idea of it or report it. The landlord, to ge_im out of the inn, replied with no less rhetoric though with shorter words,
  • and without calling upon him to pay the reckoning let him go with a Godspeed.