Anselmo had with the deepest attention listened to
and seen played out the tragedy of the death of his
honour, which the performers acted with such wonderfully
effective truth that it seemed as if they had become
the realities of the parts they played. He longed
for night and an opportunity of escaping from the
house to go and see his good friend Lothario, and
with him give vent to his joy over the precious pearl
he had gained in having established his wife’s
purity. Both mistress and maid took care to give
him time and opportunity to get away, and taking advantage
of it he made his escape, and at once went in quest
of Lothario, and it would be impossible to describe
how he embraced him when he found him, and the things
he said to him in the joy of his heart, and the praises
he bestowed upon Camilla; all which Lothario listened
to without being able to show any pleasure, for he
could not forget how deceived his friend was, and
how dishonourably he had wronged him; and though Anselmo
could see that Lothario was not glad, still he imagined
it was only because he had left Camilla wounded and
had been himself the cause of it; and so among other
things he told him not to be distressed about Camilla’s
accident, for, as they had agreed to hide it from him,
the wound was evidently trifling; and that being so,
he had no cause for fear, but should henceforward
be of good cheer and rejoice with him, seeing that
by his means and adroitness he found himself raised
to the greatest height of happiness that he could
have ventured to hope for, and desired no better pastime
than making verses in praise of Camilla that would
preserve her name for all time to come. Lothario
commended his purpose, and promised on his own part
to aid him in raising a monument so glorious.
And so Anselmo was left the most charmingly hoodwinked
man there could be in the world. He himself,
persuaded he was conducting the instrument of his
glory, led home by the hand him who had been the utter
destruction of his good name; whom Camilla received
with averted countenance, though with smiles in her
heart. The deception was carried on for some time,
until at the end of a few months Fortune turned her
wheel and the guilt which had been until then so skilfully
concealed was published abroad, and Anselmo paid with
his life the penalty of his ill-advised curiosity.
CHAPTER XXXV.
WHICH TREATS OF THE HEROIC AND PRODIGIOUS BATTLE DON QUIXOTE HAD WITH
CERTAIN SKINS OF RED WINE, AND BRINGS THE NOVEL OF “THE ILL-ADVISED
CURIOSITY” TO A CLOSE
There remained but little more of the novel to be
read, when Sancho Panza burst forth in wild excitement
from the garret where Don Quixote was lying, shouting,
“Run, sirs! quick; and help my master, who is
in the thick of the toughest and stiffest battle I
ever laid eyes on. By the living God he has given
the giant, the enemy of my lady the Princess Micomicona,
such a slash that he has sliced his head clean off
as if it were a turnip.”
