**In which the narrative of our knight's mishap is continued**
Finding, then, that, in fact he could not move, he thought himself of havin_ecourse to his usual remedy, which was to think of some passage in his books,
and his craze brought to his mind that about Baldwin and the Marquis o_antua, when Carloto left him wounded on the mountain side, a story known b_eart by the children, not forgotten by the young men, and lauded and eve_elieved by the old folk; and for all that not a whit truer than the miracle_f Mahomet. This seemed to him to fit exactly the case in which he foun_imself, so, making a show of severe suffering, he began to roll on the groun_nd with feeble breath repeat the very words which the wounded knight of th_ood is said to have uttered:
Where art thou, lady mine, that thou My sorrow dost not rue? Thou canst no_now it, lady mine, Or else thou art untrue.
And so he went on with the ballad as far as the lines:
O noble Marquis of Mantua, My Uncle and liege lord!
As chance would have it, when he had got to this line there happened to com_y a peasant from his own village, a neighbour of his, who had been with _oad of wheat to the mill, and he, seeing the man stretched there, came up t_im and asked him who he was and what was the matter with him that h_omplained so dolefully.
Don Quixote was firmly persuaded that this was the Marquis of Mantua, hi_ncle, so the only answer he made was to go on with his ballad, in which h_old the tale of his misfortune, and of the loves of the Emperor's son and hi_ife all exactly as the ballad sings it.
The peasant stood amazed at hearing such nonsense, and relieving him of th_isor, already battered to pieces by blows, he wiped his face, which wa_overed with dust, and as soon as he had done so he recognised him and said,
"Senor Quixada" (for so he appears to have been called when he was in hi_enses and had not yet changed from a quiet country gentleman into a knight-
errant), "who has brought your worship to this pass?" But to all questions th_ther only went on with his ballad.
Seeing this, the good man removed as well as he could his breastplate an_ackpiece to see if he had any wound, but he could perceive no blood nor an_ark whatever. He then contrived to raise him from the ground, and with n_ittle difficulty hoisted him upon his ass, which seemed to him to be th_asiest mount for him; and collecting the arms, even to the splinters of th_ance, he tied them on Rocinante, and leading him by the bridle and the ass b_he halter he took the road for the village, very sad to hear what absur_tuff Don Quixote was talking.
Nor was Don Quixote less so, for what with blows and bruises he could not si_pright on the ass, and from time to time he sent up sighs to heaven, so tha_nce more he drove the peasant to ask what ailed him. And it could have bee_nly the devil himself that put into his head tales to match his ow_dventures, for now, forgetting Baldwin, he bethought himself of the Moo_bindarraez, when the Alcaide of Antequera, Rodrigo de Narvaez, took hi_risoner and carried him away to his castle; so that when the peasant agai_sked him how he was and what ailed him, he gave him for reply the same word_nd phrases that the captive Abindarraez gave to Rodrigo de Narvaez, just a_e had read the story in the "Diana" of Jorge de Montemayor where it i_ritten, applying it to his own case so aptly that the peasant went alon_ursing his fate that he had to listen to such a lot of nonsense; from which,
however, he came to the conclusion that his neighbour was mad, and so made al_aste to reach the village to escape the wearisomeness of this harangue of Do_uixote's; who, at the end of it, said, "Senor Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, you_orship must know that this fair Xarifa I have mentioned is now the lovel_ulcinea del Toboso, for whom I have done, am doing, and will do the mos_amous deeds of chivalry that in this world have been seen, are to be seen, o_ver shall be seen."
To this the peasant answered, "Senor—sinner that I am!—cannot your worship se_hat I am not Don Rodrigo de Narvaez nor the Marquis of Mantua, but Pedr_lonso your neighbour, and that your worship is neither Baldwin no_bindarraez, but the worthy gentleman Senor Quixada?"
"I know who I am," replied Don Quixote, "and I know that I may be not onl_hose I have named, but all the Twelve Peers of France and even all the Nin_orthies, since my achievements surpass all that they have done all togethe_nd each of them on his own account."
With this talk and more of the same kind they reached the village just a_ight was beginning to fall, but the peasant waited until it was a littl_ater that the belaboured gentleman might not be seen riding in such _iserable trim. When it was what seemed to him the proper time he entered th_illage and went to Don Quixote's house, which he found all in confusion, an_here were the curate and the village barber, who were great friends of Do_uixote, and his housekeeper was saying to them in a loud voice, "What doe_our worship think can have befallen my master, Senor Licentiate Pero Perez?"
for so the curate was called; "it is three days now since anything has bee_een of him, or the hack, or the buckler, lance, or armour. Miserable me! I a_ertain of it, and it is as true as that I was born to die, that thes_ccursed books of chivalry he has, and has got into the way of reading s_onstantly, have upset his reason; for now I remember having often heard hi_aying to himself that he would turn knight-errant and go all over the worl_n quest of adventures. To the devil and Barabbas with such books, that hav_rought to ruin in this way the finest understanding there was in all L_ancha!"
The niece said the same, and, more: "You must know, Master Nicholas"—for tha_as the name of the barber—"it was often my uncle's way to stay two days an_ights together poring over these unholy books of misventures, after which h_ould fling the book away and snatch up his sword and fall to slashing th_alls; and when he was tired out he would say he had killed four giants lik_our towers; and the sweat that flowed from him when he was weary he said wa_he blood of the wounds he had received in battle; and then he would drink _reat jug of cold water and become calm and quiet, saying that this water wa_ most precious potion which the sage Esquife, a great magician and friend o_is, had brought him. But I take all the blame upon myself for never havin_old your worships of my uncle's vagaries, that you might put a stop to the_efore things had come to this pass, and burn all these accursed books—for h_as a great number—that richly deserve to be burned like heretics."
"So say I too," said the curate, "and by my faith to-morrow shall not pas_ithout public judgment upon them, and may they be condemned to the flame_est they lead those that read to behave as my good friend seems to hav_ehaved."
All this the peasant heard, and from it he understood at last what was th_atter with his neighbour, so he began calling aloud, "Open, your worships, t_enor Baldwin and to Senor the Marquis of Mantua, who comes badly wounded, an_o Senor Abindarraez, the Moor, whom the valiant Rodrigo de Narvaez, th_lcaide of Antequera, brings captive."
At these words they all hurried out, and when they recognised their friend,
master, and uncle, who had not yet dismounted from the ass because he coul_ot, they ran to embrace him.
"Hold!" said he, "for I am badly wounded through my horse's fault; carry me t_ed, and if possible send for the wise Urganda to cure and see to my wounds."
"See there! plague on it!" cried the housekeeper at this: "did not my hear_ell the truth as to which foot my master went lame of? To bed with you_orship at once, and we will contrive to cure you here without fetching tha_urgada. A curse I say once more, and a hundred times more, on those books o_hivalry that have brought your worship to such a pass."
They carried him to bed at once, and after searching for his wounds could fin_one, but he said they were all bruises from having had a severe fall with hi_orse Rocinante when in combat with ten giants, the biggest and the boldest t_e found on earth.
"So, so!" said the curate, "are there giants in the dance? By the sign of th_ross I will burn them to-morrow before the day over."
They put a host of questions to Don Quixote, but his only answer to al_as—give him something to eat, and leave him to sleep, for that was what h_eeded most. They did so, and the curate questioned the peasant at grea_ength as to how he had found Don Quixote. He told him, and the nonsense h_ad talked when found and on the way home, all which made the licentiate th_ore eager to do what he did the next day, which was to summon his friend th_arber, Master Nicholas, and go with him to Don Quixote's house.