On this, Sancho came up to him.  “O good dear sir!” cried he, “for pity’s sake, hinder my master from falling upon those lions by all means, or we shall all be torn a-pieces.”—­“Why,” said the gentleman, “is your master so arrant a madman, then, that you should fear he would set upon such furious beasts?”—­“Ah, sir!” said Sancho, “he is not mad, but venturesome.”—­“Well,” replied the gentleman, “I will take care of that;” and with that advancing up to Don Quixote, who was urging the lion-keeper to open the cage, “Sir,” said he, “knights-errant ought to engage in adventures from which there may be some hopes of coming off with safety, but not in such as are altogether desperate; for that courage which borders on temerity is more like madness than fortitude.  Besides, these lions come not against you, nor dream of it, but are sent as a present to the king, and therefore, it is well not to detain them, or stop the wagon.”—­“Pray, sweet sir,” replied Don Quixote, “go and amuse yourself with your tame partridge and your bold ferret, and leave every one to his own business.  This is mine, and I know best whether these lion gentry are sent against me or no.”  Then turning about to the keeper, “Sirrah! you rascal you,” said he, “either open your cages on the spot, or I vow to God, I will pin thee to the wagon with this lance.”—­“Good sir,” cried the wagoner, seeing this strange apparition in armor so resolute, “for mercy’s sake, do but let me take out our mules first, and get out of harm’s way with them as fast as I can, before the lions get out; for if they should kill them, I should be undone forever, for that cart and they are all I have in the world to get a living with.”—­“Thou man of little faith,” said Don Quixote, “take them out quickly, then, and go with them where thou wilt; though thou shalt presently see that thy precaution was needless, and thou mightest have spared thy pains.”

The wagoner on this made haste to take out his mules, while the keeper cried out loud, “Bear witness, all ye that are here present, that it is against my will I am forced to open the cages and let loose the lions; and that I protest to this gentleman here, that he shall be answerable for all the mischief and damage they may do; together with the loss of my salary and fees.  And now, sirs, shift for yourselves, for, as for myself, I know the lions will do me no harm.”  Once more the gentleman tried to dissuade Don Quixote from doing so mad a thing, telling him that he tempted Heaven in exposing himself to so great a danger.  To this Don Quixote made no other answer, but that he knew what he had to do.  “Consider, however, what you do,” replied the gentleman, “for it is most certain that you are very much mistaken.”—­“Well, sir,” said Don Quixote, “if you care not to be spectator of an action which you think is like to be tragical, e’en put spurs to your mare, and provide for your safety.”  Sancho, hearing this, came up to his master with tears in his eyes