Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (52 page)

“Don’t be sad, Señora; by tomorrow,” responded Leonela, “I’ll think of what we should say, and perhaps because of where the wound is, you’ll be able to hide it and he won’t see it, and heaven will be merciful and favor our just and honorable thoughts. Be calm, Señora, and try to stay calm so that my master doesn’t find you troubled, and you can leave the rest to me, and to God, who always comes to the aid of virtuous desires.”

Anselmo had been very attentive as he heard and watched the performance of the tragedy of the death of his honor, which had been performed with such unusual and convincing effects by the actors that they seemed to have been transformed into the very parts they were playing. He longed for night to fall, when he would be able to leave his house, and go to see his good friend Lotario, and celebrate with him the precious pearl he had discovered in the revelation of his wife’s virtue. The two women were careful to give him the opportunity to leave, and he did not miss that opportunity, and he left and went to find Lotario, and when he had found him, it is difficult to recount the number of embraces he gave him, the things he said about his joy, his praises of Camila. Lotario listened to all of this and could give no indications of happiness because he thought of how deceived his friend was and how unjustly he had wronged him. And although Anselmo saw that Lotario was not happy, he thought it was because he had left Camila wounded when he had been the reason for the wound; among other things, he even told him not to grieve over what had happened to Camila, because the wound was surely superficial since the two women had agreed to hide it
from him; therefore there was nothing to fear, and from now on Lotario should rejoice and celebrate with him because through his efforts, Anselmo found himself lifted to the highest happiness he could ever desire, and he wanted to do nothing else but write verses in praise of Camila that would make her live forever in the memory of future ages. Lotario praised his decision and said that he, for his part, would help him raise so noble an edifice.

And so Anselmo was the most deliciously deceived man in the world: he himself led into his house the man who was the ruination of his name, believing he had been the instrument of his glory. Camila received him with an apparently crestfallen expression, although her soul rejoiced. This deception lasted some months until Fortune spun her wheel, the wickedness they had concealed with so much skill was made public, and Anselmo’s reckless curiosity cost him his life.

CHAPTER XXXV

Only a little more of the novel remained to be read when a distraught Sancho Panza rushed out of the garret where Don Quixote slept, shouting:

“Come, Señores, come quickly and help my master, who’s involved in the fiercest, most awful battle my eyes have ever seen! By God, what a thrust he gave to the giant, the enemy of the Señora Princess Micomicona, when he cut his head right off, just like a turnip!”

“What are you saying, brother?” said the priest, who had stopped reading the novel. “Are you in your right mind, Sancho? How the devil can what you say be true if the giant is two thousand leagues from here?”

Just then they heard a loud noise in the garret and the sound of Don Quixote shouting:

“Hold, thief, scoundrel, coward! I have you now, and your scimitar will be of little use to you!”

And he seemed to be slashing at the walls with his sword. Sancho said:

“Don’t stand and listen, go in and stop the fight or help my master, though that won’t be necessary because, no doubt about it, the giant must be dead by now and giving an accounting to God of his sinful life; I saw his blood running along the floor, and his head cut off and fallen to one side, a head the size of a big wineskin.”

“Strike me dead,” said the innkeeper, “if Don Quixote, or Don Devil, hasn’t slashed one of the skins of red wine hanging at the head of his bed; the spilled wine must be what this good man thinks is blood.”

And then he hurried into the room, and all the rest followed him, and they discovered Don Quixote in the strangest outfit in the world. He was in his shirt, which was not long enough in front to cover his thighs completely, and in back it was shorter by a span of six fingers; his legs were very long and thin, hairy, and not particularly clean; on his head he wore a red, greasy nightcap that belonged to the innkeeper; wrapped around his left arm was the blanket from the bed, toward which Sancho felt some animosity, for reasons he knew only too well; in his right hand he held his unsheathed sword and was slashing with it in all directions and shouting as if he really were fighting a giant. Best of all, his eyes were not open because he was sleeping and dreaming that he was doing battle with the giant, for his imagination of the adventure he was about to undertake was so intense that it made him dream he had already come to the kingdom of Micomicón and was already engaged in combat with his enemy. He had slashed the wineskins so many times with his sword, thinking he was slashing the giant, that the entire room was covered in wine. When he saw this, the innkeeper became so enraged that he threw himself on Don Quixote and began to give him so many blows with his fists that if Cardenio and the priest had not pulled him off, he alone would have ended the conflict with the giant; with it all, the poor knight did not awaken until the barber brought a large pot of cold water from the well and threw it at him all at once, which roused Don Quixote, but not enough for him to realize what he was doing.

Dorotea, who saw how scantily and tenuously he was dressed, did not wish to come in and watch the combat between her defender and her adversary.

Sancho looked everywhere on the floor for the giant’s head, and when he did not find it, he said:

“Now I know that everything in this house is enchantment; the last time I stood on the very spot where I’m standing now, I was punched and
beaten and I never knew who was doing it, and I never could see anybody, and now the head is nowhere to be found, though I saw it cut off with my very own eyes, and the blood ran out of the body like water from a fountain.”

“What blood and what fountain are you talking about, you enemy of God and all his saints?” said the innkeeper. “Don’t you see, you thief, that the blood and the fountain are only these slashed wineskins and the red wine flooding this room? I’d like to see the soul of whoever slashed them drowning in the floods of hell!”

“All I know,” responded Sancho, “is that if I don’t find that head, my luck will turn and my countship will dissolve away like salt in water.”

Sancho awake was worse than his master asleep: such was the faith he had in the promises his master had made to him. The innkeeper despaired when he saw the slow wits of the squire and the damage done by the master, and he swore it would not be like the last time, when they left without paying; this time they could not claim the privileges of chivalry to keep from paying for both stays at the inn, including the cost of the patches he would have to put on the torn wineskins.

The priest was holding Don Quixote by the hands, and the knight, believing the adventure had been concluded and that he was before the Princess Micomicona, kneeled in front of the priest, saying:

“Now your highness, your noble and illustrious ladyship, may live in the certainty that from this day forth, this lowborn creature can do you no harm, and I, from this day forth, am released from the promise I made to you, for with the help of God on high and the favor of her for whom I live and breathe, I have kept the promise, and with great success.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” said Sancho when he heard this. “I told you I wasn’t drunk: now you can see if my master hasn’t slaughtered and salted that giant! Now it’s for sure:
¹
my countship’s on the way!”

Who would not have laughed at the foolishness of both master and servant? Everyone did except the innkeeper, who cursed his luck; but at last, with no small effort, the barber, Cardenio, and the priest returned Don Quixote to the bed, where he fell asleep, showing signs of great weariness. They left him sleeping and went out to the entrance to the inn to console Sancho Panza for not having found the giant’s head, though it was more difficult for them to placate the innkeeper, who was
in despair at the sudden demise of his wineskins. And the innkeeper’s wife said, with great cries and shouts:

“It was an evil moment and a cursed hour when this knight errant came into my house; he costs me so much, I wish I’d never laid eyes on him. The last time, he left without paying the cost of a night, a meal, a bed, straw, and barley, for him and his squire and a horse and a donkey, saying that he was an adventuring knight, may God give him unlucky adventures, him and all the adventurers in the world, and that’s why he wasn’t obliged to pay anything, according to the tariff regulations of errant knighthood. Then, on his account, this other gentleman comes along and takes away my oxtail, and gives it back with more than two
cuartillos’
²
worth of damage, with not a hair on it, so it’s no good for the thing my husband wanted it for. And then, the finishing touch, he slashes my wineskins and spills my wine, and I only wish it was his blood that was spilled. Well, he won’t get away with it! By the bones of my father and my mother’s old white head, he’ll pay me every
cuarto
³
he owes or my name isn’t what it is, and I’m not my parents’ daughter!”

These words and others like them were said in great anger by the innkeeper’s wife, and her good maid, Maritornes, assisted her in this. Her daughter said nothing, and from time to time she smiled. The priest restored calm by promising to do everything in his power to compensate them for their loss, the wineskins as well as the wine, and in particular the damage to the oxtail, which they valued so highly. Dorotea consoled Sancho Panza, promising him that as soon as it was certain his master had cut off the giant’s head and she was peacefully ruling her kingdom again, she would give him the best countship in all the land. Sancho was comforted by this, and he assured the princess that she could be certain he had seen the head of the giant, who seemed to have a beard that came down to his waist, and if the head could not be found, it was because everything that happened in that house was enchantment, as he had learned the last time he stayed here. Dorotea said she believed him, and he should not worry; everything would be fine and turn out just as he wished.

When everyone was calm, the priest wanted to finish reading the novel because he saw that he had almost reached the end. Cardenio, Dorotea, and all the others asked him to finish it, and the priest, who
wished to satisfy everyone and wanted to read it as well, continued the story.

And so, because of Anselmo’s certainty regarding Camila’s virtue, he led a carefree and contented life, and Camila intentionally showed coldness to Lotario so that Anselmo would believe her feelings toward him were the opposite of what they truly were; to give this even more weight, Lotario asked permission not to visit his friend’s house anymore since it was clear that the sight of him troubled Camila a great deal, but the deluded Anselmo said that under no circumstances would he allow any such thing; in this way, in a thousand ways, Anselmo constructed his own dishonor, believing that he was creating his own delight.

In the meantime, the delight Leonela took in freely engaging in her love affair went so far that she cared about nothing else and pursued it without restraint, certain that her mistress would conceal what she did and even advise her how to carry on an affair without arousing too much suspicion. Finally, one night, Anselmo heard footsteps in Leonela’s bedroom, and when he tried to go in to see whose they were, he found the door closed against him, which gave him an even greater desire to open it; he pushed so hard that it opened, and as he went in he saw a man leaping out the window to the street, and when he tried to hurry out to catch him or see who he was, he could do neither because Leonela threw her arms around him, saying:

“Be calm, Señor, don’t be angry, you don’t need to follow the man who left here; it really is my affair; in fact, he’s my husband.”

Anselmo did not believe her; instead, blind with rage, he took out his dagger and tried to stab Leonela, saying that if she did not tell him the truth, he would kill her. She was terrified, and not knowing what she was saying, she cried:

“Don’t kill me, Señor, and I’ll tell you things that are more important than you can imagine.”

“Tell me now,” said Anselmo, “or you’re a dead woman.”

“I can’t now,” said Leonela, “I’m too upset; wait until tomorrow, and then you’ll hear things that will amaze you; but you can be sure that the man who jumped out the window is a young man of this city who has given his promise to marry me.”

Anselmo grew calmer and was willing to wait the period of time she requested, for he did not think he would hear anything against Camila,
he was so certain and sure of her virtue; so he went out of Leonela’s bedroom and left her locked inside, saying she would not leave until she told him what she had to tell him.

Then he went to see Camila, and told her everything that had occurred, and said that her maid had promised to tell him great, important things. It goes without saying that Camila became alarmed, fearing, and with reason, that Leonela would tell Anselmo everything she knew about her infidelity; she did not have the courage to wait and see if her suspicions were true, and that same night, when she thought Anselmo was asleep, she gathered together the most precious jewels she had, and some money, and without being detected by anyone, she left her house and went to Lotario’s; she told him what had happened and asked that he hide her, or that the two of them go where they would both be safe from Anselmo. Camila threw Lotario into such confusion that he could not say a word, much less decide what to do.

Finally, he decided to take Camila to a convent where one of his sisters was prioress. Camila agreed, and with the speed the situation demanded, Lotario took her to the convent and left her there, and he himself abandoned the city and told no one of his departure.