**Of the omens Don Quixote had as he entered his own village, and othe_ncidents that embellish and give a colour to this great history**
At the entrance of the village, so says Cide Hamete, Don Quixote saw two boy_uarrelling on the village threshing-floor one of whom said to the other,
"Take it easy, Periquillo; thou shalt never see it again as long as tho_ivest."
Don Quixote heard this, and said he to Sancho, "Dost thou not mark, friend,
what that boy said, 'Thou shalt never see it again as long as thou livest'?"
"Well," said Sancho, "what does it matter if the boy said so?"
"What!" said Don Quixote, "dost thou not see that, applied to the object of m_esires, the words mean that I am never to see Dulcinea more?"
Sancho was about to answer, when his attention was diverted by seeing a har_ome flying across the plain pursued by several greyhounds and sportsmen. I_ts terror it ran to take shelter and hide itself under Dapple. Sancho caugh_t alive and presented it to Don Quixote, who was saying, "Malum signum, malu_ignum! a hare flies, greyhounds chase it, Dulcinea appears not."
"Your worship's a strange man," said Sancho; "let's take it for granted tha_his hare is Dulcinea, and these greyhounds chasing it the malignan_nchanters who turned her into a country wench; she flies, and I catch her an_ut her into your worship's hands, and you hold her in your arms and cheris_er; what bad sign is that, or what ill omen is there to be found here?"
The two boys who had been quarrelling came over to look at the hare, an_ancho asked one of them what their quarrel was about. He was answered by th_ne who had said, "Thou shalt never see it again as long as thou livest," tha_e had taken a cage full of crickets from the other boy, and did not mean t_ive it back to him as long as he lived. Sancho took out four cuartos from hi_ocket and gave them to the boy for the cage, which he placed in Don Quixote'_ands, saying, "There, senor! there are the omens broken and destroyed, an_hey have no more to do with our affairs, to my thinking, fool as I am, tha_ith last year's clouds; and if I remember rightly I have heard the curate o_ur village say that it does not become Christians or sensible people to giv_ny heed to these silly things; and even you yourself said the same to me som_ime ago, telling me that all Christians who minded omens were fools; bu_here's no need of making words about it; let us push on and go into ou_illage."
The sportsmen came up and asked for their hare, which Don Quixote gave them.
They then went on, and upon the green at the entrance of the town they cam_pon the curate and the bachelor Samson Carrasco busy with their breviaries.
It should be mentioned that Sancho had thrown, by way of a sumpter-cloth, ove_apple and over the bundle of armour, the buckram robe painted with flame_hich they had put upon him at the duke's castle the night Altisidora cam_ack to life. He had also fixed the mitre on Dapple's head, the oddes_ransformation and decoration that ever ass in the world underwent. They wer_t once recognised by both the curate and the bachelor, who came towards the_ith open arms. Don Quixote dismounted and received them with a close embrace;
and the boys, who are lynxes that nothing escapes, spied out the ass's mitr_nd came running to see it, calling out to one another, "Come here, boys, an_ee Sancho Panza's ass figged out finer than Mingo, and Don Quixote's beas_eaner than ever."
So at length, with the boys capering round them, and accompanied by the curat_nd the bachelor, they made their entrance into the town, and proceeded to Do_uixote's house, at the door of which they found his housekeeper and niece,
whom the news of his arrival had already reached. It had been brought t_eresa Panza, Sancho's wife, as well, and she with her hair all loose and hal_aked, dragging Sanchica her daughter by the hand, ran out to meet he_usband; but seeing him coming in by no means as good case as she thought _overnor ought to be, she said to him, "How is it you come this way, husband?
It seems to me you come tramping and footsore, and looking more like _isorderly vagabond than a governor."
"Hold your tongue, Teresa," said Sancho; "often 'where there are pegs ther_re no flitches;' let's go into the house and there you'll hear strang_hings. I bring money, and that's the main thing, got by my own industr_ithout wronging anybody."
"You bring the money, my good husband," said Teresa, "and no matter whether i_as got this way or that; for, however you may have got it, you'll not hav_rought any new practice into the world."
Sanchica embraced her father and asked him if he brought her anything, for sh_ad been looking out for him as for the showers of May; and she taking hold o_im by the girdle on one side, and his wife by the hand, while the daughte_ed Dapple, they made for their house, leaving Don Quixote in his, in th_ands of his niece and housekeeper, and in the company of the curate and th_achelor.
Don Quixote at once, without any regard to time or season, withdrew in privat_ith the bachelor and the curate, and in a few words told them of his defeat,
and of the engagement he was under not to quit his village for a year, whic_e meant to keep to the letter without departing a hair's breadth from it, a_ecame a knight-errant bound by scrupulous good faith and the laws of knight-
errantry; and of how he thought of turning shepherd for that year, and takin_is diversion in the solitude of the fields, where he could with perfec_reedom give range to his thoughts of love while he followed the virtuou_astoral calling; and he besought them, if they had not a great deal to do an_ere not prevented by more important business, to consent to be hi_ompanions, for he would buy sheep enough to qualify them for shepherds; an_he most important point of the whole affair, he could tell them, was settled,
for he had given them names that would fit them to a T. The curate asked wha_hey were. Don Quixote replied that he himself was to be called the shepher_uixotize and the bachelor the shepherd Carrascon, and the curate the shepher_urambro, and Sancho Panza the shepherd Pancino.
Both were astounded at Don Quixote's new craze; however, lest he should onc_ore make off out of the village from them in pursuit of his chivalry, the_rusting that in the course of the year he might be cured, fell in with hi_ew project, applauded his crazy idea as a bright one, and offered to shar_he life with him. "And what's more," said Samson Carrasco, "I am, as all th_orld knows, a very famous poet, and I'll be always making verses, pastoral,
or courtly, or as it may come into my head, to pass away our time in thos_ecluded regions where we shall be roaming. But what is most needful, sirs, i_hat each of us should choose the name of the shepherdess he means to glorif_n his verses, and that we should not leave a tree, be it ever so hard,
without writing up and carving her name on it, as is the habit and custom o_ove-smitten shepherds."
"That's the very thing," said Don Quixote; "though I am relieved from lookin_or the name of an imaginary shepherdess, for there's the peerless Dulcine_el Toboso, the glory of these brooksides, the ornament of these meadows, th_ainstay of beauty, the cream of all the graces, and, in a word, the being t_hom all praise is appropriate, be it ever so hyperbolical."
"Very true," said the curate; "but we the others must look about fo_ccommodating shepherdesses that will answer our purpose one way or another."
"And," added Samson Carrasco, "if they fail us, we can call them by the name_f the ones in print that the world is filled with, Filidas, Amarilises,
Dianas, Fleridas, Galateas, Belisardas; for as they sell them in the market-
places we may fairly buy them and make them our own. If my lady, or I shoul_ay my shepherdess, happens to be called Ana, I'll sing her praises under th_ame of Anarda, and if Francisca, I'll call her Francenia, and if Lucia,
Lucinda, for it all comes to the same thing; and Sancho Panza, if he join_his fraternity, may glorify his wife Teresa Panza as Teresaina."
Don Quixote laughed at the adaptation of the name, and the curate bestowe_ast praise upon the worthy and honourable resolution he had made, and agai_ffered to bear him company all the time that he could spare from hi_mperative duties. And so they took their leave of him, recommending an_eseeching him to take care of his health and treat himself to a suitabl_iet.
It so happened his niece and the housekeeper overheard all the three of the_aid; and as soon as they were gone they both of them came in to Don Quixote,
and said the niece, "What's this, uncle? Now that we were thinking you ha_ome back to stay at home and lead a quiet respectable life there, are yo_oing to get into fresh entanglements, and turn 'young shepherd, thou tha_omest here, young shepherd going there?' Nay! indeed 'the straw is too har_ow to make pipes of.'"
"And," added the housekeeper, "will your worship be able to bear, out in th_ields, the heats of summer, and the chills of winter, and the howling of th_olves? Not you; for that's a life and a business for hardy men, bred an_easoned to such work almost from the time they were in swaddling-clothes.
Why, to make choice of evils, it's better to be a knight-errant than _hepherd! Look here, senor; take my advice—and I'm not giving it to you ful_f bread and wine, but fasting, and with fifty years upon my head—stay a_ome, look after your affairs, go often to confession, be good to the poor,
and upon my soul be it if any evil comes to you."
"Hold your peace, my daughters," said Don Quixote; "I know very well what m_uty is; help me to bed, for I don't feel very well; and rest assured that,
knight-errant now or wandering shepherd to be, I shall never fail to have _are for your interests, as you will see in the end." And the good wenches
(for that they undoubtedly were), the housekeeper and niece, helped him t_ed, where they gave him something to eat and made him as comfortable a_ossible.