Here Cardenio brought to a close his long discourse
and story, as full of misfortune as it was of love;
but just as the curate was going to address some words
of comfort to him, he was stopped by a voice that reached
his ear, saying in melancholy tones what will be told
in the Fourth Part of this narrative; for at this
point the sage and sagacious historian, Cide Hamete
Benengeli, brought the Third to a conclusion.
WHICH TREATS OF THE STRANGE AND DELIGHTFUL ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL THE
CURATE AND THE BARBER IN THE SAME SIERRA
Happy and fortunate were the times when that most
daring knight Don Quixote of La Mancha was sent into
the world; for by reason of his having formed a resolution
so honourable as that of seeking to revive and restore
to the world the long-lost and almost defunct order
of knight-errantry, we now enjoy in this age of ours,
so poor in light entertainment, not only the charm
of his veracious history, but also of the tales and
episodes contained in it which are, in a measure, no
less pleasing, ingenious, and truthful, than the history
itself; which, resuming its thread, carded, spun,
and wound, relates that just as the curate was going
to offer consolation to Cardenio, he was interrupted
by a voice that fell upon his ear saying in plaintive
tones:
“O God! is it possible I have found a place
that may serve as a secret grave for the weary load
of this body that I support so unwillingly? If
the solitude these mountains promise deceives me not,
it is so; ah! woe is me! how much more grateful to
my mind will be the society of these rocks and brakes
that permit me to complain of my misfortune to Heaven,
than that of any human being, for there is none on
earth to look to for counsel in doubt, comfort in
sorrow, or relief in distress!”
All this was heard distinctly by the curate and those
with him, and as it seemed to them to be uttered close
by, as indeed it was, they got up to look for the
speaker, and before they had gone twenty paces they
discovered behind a rock, seated at the foot of an
ash tree, a youth in the dress of a peasant, whose
face they were unable at the moment to see as he was
leaning forward, bathing his feet in the brook that
flowed past. They approached so silently that
he did not perceive them, being fully occupied in
bathing his feet, which were so fair that they looked
like two pieces of shining crystal brought forth among
the other stones of the brook. The whiteness
and beauty of these feet struck them with surprise,
for they did not seem to have been made to crush clods
or to follow the plough and the oxen as their owner’s
dress suggested; and so, finding they had not been
noticed, the curate, who was in front, made a sign
to the other two to conceal themselves behind some
fragments of rock that lay there; which they did,
observing closely what the youth was about. He
had on a loose double-skirted dark brown jacket bound
tight to his body with a white cloth; he wore besides
breeches and gaiters of brown cloth, and on his head
a brown montera; and he had the gaiters turned up
as far as the middle of the leg, which verily seemed
to be of pure alabaster.
