“Blind thy eyes, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “and get up.  Sure he that sends so far for us can have no design to deceive us! since it would never be to his credit to delude those that rely on his word; and, though the success should be contrary to our desires, still, it is not in the power of malice to eclipse the glory of so brave an attempt.”—­“To horse, then, sir,” cried Sancho.  “The beards and tears of these poor gentlewomen are sticking in my heart.  And I shall not eat a bit to do me good till I see them as smooth as before.  Mount, then, I say, and blindfold yourself first; for, if I must ride behind, it is a plain case you must get up before me.”—­“That is right,” said Don Quixote; and, with that, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he gave it to the Disconsolate Lady to hoodwink him.  She did so; but presently after, uncovering himself, “If I remember right,” said he, “we read in Virgil of the Trojan Palladium, that wooden horse which the Greeks offered the goddess Pallas, full of armed knights who afterwards proved the total ruin of Troy.  It were prudent, therefore, before we get up, to see what Clavileno has within him.”—­“You need not,” said the Disconsolate Lady; “I dare engage that Malambruno would not countenance any base or treacherous practice.  Mount, Don Quixote, without fear; whatever accident befalls you, I dare answer for.”  Upon this, Don Quixote mounted, without any reply, imagining that anything said concerning his security would be a reflection on his valor.  He then began to try the pin, which was easily turned; and as he sat, with his long legs stretched at length without stirrups, he looked like one of those antique figures in a Roman triumph, painted or woven in Flemish arras.

Sancho, very leisurely and unwillingly, was made to climb up; and, fixing himself as well as he could on the crupper, felt it somewhat hard and uneasy.  With that, looking on the duke, “Good my lord,” quoth he, “will you lend me something to clap under me; some pillow from the page’s bed, or the duchess’s cushion of state, or anything; for this horse’s crupper seems rather marble than wood.”—­“It is needless,” said Trifaldi; “for Clavileno will bear no kind of furniture upon him; so that, for your greater ease, you had best sit sideways, like a woman.”  Sancho did so; and after he had taken his leave they bound a cloth over his eyes; but presently after, uncovering them, with a pitiful look on the spectators, he prayed them with tears in his eyes to help him in this peril with two Paternosters and two Ave Marias, as they would expect the like charity themselves in such a condition!—­“What! you rascal,” said Don Quixote, “do you think yourself at the gallows, and at the point of death, that you hold forth in such a piteous strain?  Dastardly wretch without a soul, dost thou not know that the fair Magalona once sat in thy place, and alighted from thence, not into the grave, but into the throne of France, if there is truth in history?  And do not I sit by