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Chapter 61

  • **Of what happened Don Quixote on entering Barcelona, together with othe_atters that partake of the true rather than of the ingenious**
  • Don Quixote passed three days and three nights with Roque, and had he passe_hree hundred years he would have found enough to observe and wonder at in hi_ode of life. At daybreak they were in one spot, at dinner-time in another;
  • sometimes they fled without knowing from whom, at other times they lay i_ait, not knowing for what. They slept standing, breaking their slumbers t_hift from place to place. There was nothing but sending out spies and scouts,
  • posting sentinels and blowing the matches of harquebusses, though they carrie_ut few, for almost all used flintlocks. Roque passed his nights in some plac_r other apart from his men, that they might not know where he was, for th_any proclamations the viceroy of Barcelona had issued against his life kep_im in fear and uneasiness, and he did not venture to trust anyone, afrai_hat even his own men would kill him or deliver him up to the authorities; o_ truth, a weary miserable life! At length, by unfrequented roads, short cuts,
  • and secret paths, Roque, Don Quixote, and Sancho, together with six squires,
  • set out for Barcelona. They reached the strand on Saint John's Eve during th_ight; and Roque, after embracing Don Quixote and Sancho (to whom he presente_he ten crowns he had promised but had not until then given), left them wit_any expressions of good-will on both sides.
  • Roque went back, while Don Quixote remained on horseback, just as he was,
  • waiting for day, and it was not long before the countenance of the fair Auror_egan to show itself at the balconies of the east, gladdening the grass an_lowers, if not the ear, though to gladden that too there came at the sam_oment a sound of clarions and drums, and a din of bells, and a tramp, tramp,
  • and cries of "Clear the way there!" of some runners, that seemed to issue fro_he city.
  • The dawn made way for the sun that with a face broader than a buckler began t_ise slowly above the low line of the horizon; Don Quixote and Sancho gaze_ll round them; they beheld the sea, a sight until then unseen by them; i_truck them as exceedingly spacious and broad, much more so than the lakes o_uidera which they had seen in La Mancha. They saw the galleys along th_each, which, lowering their awnings, displayed themselves decked wit_treamers and pennons that trembled in the breeze and kissed and swept th_ater, while on board the bugles, trumpets, and clarions were sounding an_illing the air far and near with melodious warlike notes. Then they began t_ove and execute a kind of skirmish upon the calm water, while a vast numbe_f horsemen on fine horses and in showy liveries, issuing from the city,
  • engaged on their side in a somewhat similar movement. The soldiers on boar_he galleys kept up a ceaseless fire, which they on the walls and forts of th_ity returned, and the heavy cannon rent the air with the tremendous nois_hey made, to which the gangway guns of the galleys replied. The bright sea,
  • the smiling earth, the clear air—though at times darkened by the smoke of th_uns—all seemed to fill the whole multitude with unexpected delight. Sanch_ould not make out how it was that those great masses that moved over the se_ad so many feet.
  • And now the horsemen in livery came galloping up with shouts and outlandis_ries and cheers to where Don Quixote stood amazed and wondering; and one o_hem, he to whom Roque had sent word, addressing him exclaimed, "Welcome t_ur city, mirror, beacon, star and cynosure of all knight-errantry in it_idest extent! Welcome, I say, valiant Don Quixote of La Mancha; not th_alse, the fictitious, the apocryphal, that these latter days have offered u_n lying histories, but the true, the legitimate, the real one that Cid_amete Benengeli, flower of historians, has described to us!"
  • Don Quixote made no answer, nor did the horsemen wait for one, but wheelin_gain with all their followers, they began curvetting round Don Quixote, who,
  • turning to Sancho, said, "These gentlemen have plainly recognised us; I wil_ager they have read our history, and even that newly printed one by th_ragonese."
  • The cavalier who had addressed Don Quixote again approached him and said,
  • "Come with us, Senor Don Quixote, for we are all of us your servants and grea_riends of Roque Guinart's;" to which Don Quixote returned, "If courtes_reeds courtesy, yours, sir knight, is daughter or very nearly akin to th_reat Roque's; carry me where you please; I will have no will but yours,
  • especially if you deign to employ it in your service."
  • The cavalier replied with words no less polite, and then, all closing i_round him, they set out with him for the city, to the music of the clarion_nd the drums. As they were entering it, the wicked one, who is the author o_ll mischief, and the boys who are wickeder than the wicked one, contrive_hat a couple of these audacious irrepressible urchins should force their wa_hrough the crowd, and lifting up, one of them Dapple's tail and the othe_ocinante's, insert a bunch of furze under each. The poor beasts felt th_trange spurs and added to their anguish by pressing their tails tight, s_uch so that, cutting a multitude of capers, they flung their masters to th_round. Don Quixote, covered with shame and out of countenance, ran to pluc_he plume from his poor jade's tail, while Sancho did the same for Dapple. Hi_onductors tried to punish the audacity of the boys, but there was n_ossibility of doing so, for they hid themselves among the hundreds of other_hat were following them. Don Quixote and Sancho mounted once more, and wit_he same music and acclamations reached their conductor's house, which wa_arge and stately, that of a rich gentleman, in short; and there for th_resent we will leave them, for such is Cide Hamete's pleasure.