me say or think, but that my enchantment is of a sort
that transcends all I have ever read of in all the
histories that deal with knights-errant that have
been enchanted? So thou mayest set thy mind at
rest as to the idea that they are what thou sayest,
for they are as much so as I am a Turk. But touching
thy desire to ask me something, say on, and I will
answer thee, though thou shouldst ask questions from
this till to-morrow morning.”
“May Our Lady be good to me!” said Sancho,
lifting up his voice; “and is it possible that
your worship is so thick of skull and so short of brains
that you cannot see that what I say is the simple truth,
and that malice has more to do with your imprisonment
and misfortune than enchantment? But as it is
so, I will prove plainly to you that you are not enchanted.
Now tell me, so may God deliver you from this affliction,
and so may you find yourself when you least expect
it in the arms of my lady Dulcinea-”
“Leave off conjuring me,” said Don Quixote,
“and ask what thou wouldst know; I have already
told thee I will answer with all possible precision.”
“That is what I want,” said Sancho; “and
what I would know, and have you tell me, without adding
or leaving out anything, but telling the whole truth
as one expects it to be told, and as it is told, by
all who profess arms, as your worship professes them,
under the title of knights-errant-”
“I tell thee I will not lie in any particular,”
said Don Quixote; “finish thy question; for
in truth thou weariest me with all these asseverations,
requirements, and precautions, Sancho.”
“Well, I rely on the goodness and truth of my
master,” said Sancho; “and so, because
it bears upon what we are talking about, I would ask,
speaking with all reverence, whether since your worship
has been shut up and, as you think, enchanted in this
cage, you have felt any desire or inclination to go
anywhere, as the saying is?”
“I do not understand ‘going anywhere,’”
said Don Quixote; “explain thyself more clearly,
Sancho, if thou wouldst have me give an answer to
the point.”
“Is it possible,” said Sancho, “that
your worship does not understand ‘going anywhere’?
Why, the schoolboys know that from the time they were
babes. Well then, you must know I mean have you
had any desire to do what cannot be avoided?”
“Ah! now I understand thee, Sancho,” said
Don Quixote; “yes, often, and even this minute;
get me out of this strait, or all will not go right.”
WHICH TREATS OF THE SHREWD CONVERSATION WHICH SANCHO PANZA HELD WITH HIS
MASTER DON QUIXOTE
“Aha, I have caught you,” said Sancho;
“this is what in my heart and soul I was longing
to know. Come now, senor, can you deny what is
commonly said around us, when a person is out of humour,
’I don’t know what ails so-and-so, that
he neither eats, nor drinks, nor sleeps, nor gives
a proper answer to any question; one would think he
was enchanted’? From which it is to be
gathered that those who do not eat, or drink, or sleep,
or do any of the natural acts I am speaking of-that
such persons are enchanted; but not those that have
the desire your worship has, and drink when drink
is given them, and eat when there is anything to eat,
and answer every question that is asked them.”
