It so happened that there was lodging that night in
the inn a caudrillero of what they call the Old Holy
Brotherhood of Toledo, who, also hearing the extraordinary
noise of the conflict, seized his staff and the tin
case with his warrants, and made his way in the dark
into the room crying: “Hold! in the name
of the Jurisdiction! Hold! in the name of the
Holy Brotherhood!”
The first that he came upon was the pummelled Don
Quixote, who lay stretched senseless on his back upon
his broken-down bed, and, his hand falling on the
beard as he felt about, he continued to cry, “Help
for the Jurisdiction!” but perceiving that he
whom he had laid hold of did not move or stir, he
concluded that he was dead and that those in the room
were his murderers, and with this suspicion he raised
his voice still higher, calling out, “Shut the
inn gate; see that no one goes out; they have killed
a man here!” This cry startled them all, and
each dropped the contest at the point at which the
voice reached him. The innkeeper retreated to
his room, the carrier to his pack-saddles, the lass
to her crib; the unlucky Don Quixote and Sancho alone
were unable to move from where they were. The
cuadrillero on this let go Don Quixote’s beard,
and went out to look for a light to search for and
apprehend the culprits; but not finding one, as the
innkeeper had purposely extinguished the lantern on
retreating to his room, he was compelled to have recourse
to the hearth, where after much time and trouble he
lit another lamp.
CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH ARE CONTAINED THE INNUMERABLE TROUBLES WHICH THE BRAVE DON
QUIXOTE AND HIS GOOD SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA ENDURED IN THE INN, WHICH TO HIS
MISFORTUNE HE TOOK TO BE A CASTLE
By this time Don Quixote had recovered from his swoon;
and in the same tone of voice in which he had called
to his squire the day before when he lay stretched
“in the vale of the stakes,” he began calling
to him now, “Sancho, my friend, art thou asleep?
sleepest thou, friend Sancho?”
“How can I sleep, curses on it!” returned
Sancho discontentedly and bitterly, “when it
is plain that all the devils have been at me this
night?”
“Thou mayest well believe that,” answered
Don Quixote, “because, either I know little,
or this castle is enchanted, for thou must know-but
this that I am now about to tell thee thou must swear
to keep secret until after my death.”
“I swear it,” answered Sancho.
“I say so,” continued Don Quixote, “because
I hate taking away anyone’s good name.”
“I say,” replied Sancho, “that I
swear to hold my tongue about it till the end of your
worship’s days, and God grant I may be able to
let it out tomorrow.”
“Do I do thee such injuries, Sancho,”
said Don Quixote, “that thou wouldst see me
dead so soon?”
“It is not for that,” replied Sancho,
“but because I hate keeping things long, and
I don’t want them to grow rotten with me from
over-keeping.”
