WHILE DON Quixote and Sancho were in the midst of the conversation reported in the previous chapter, loud voices and a deafening clamor was heard made by the people riding the mares, who, at a gallop and with loud cries raced to receive the couple. The two were surrounded by a thousand kinds of instruments and people carrying festive placards. They were accompanied by the priest and the relatives of both, and the most distinguished people from neighboring towns, all in gala attire. As soon as Sancho saw the bride he said: “I swear she’s dressed not like a peasant but rather like an elegant lady from the court. Golly, the way it looks, the necklace she’s wearing is made of fine coral and the green Cuenca cloth is made of velvet that’s thirty piles high. And look at the trimming of white cloth, which I declare must be of satin. Just look at her hands decorated with bracelets made of jet. May I never prosper if those aren’t rings made of gold—and pure gold—set with pearls as white as cottage cheese, and each one must be worth an eye. And, son of a bitch, what hair—if it’s not a wig, I’ve never seen longer and blonder hair in my whole life. And try to find something the matter with her dash and the way she carries herself. Wouldn’t you compare her to the swaying of a palm tree laden with dates—that’s what the trinkets hanging from her hair and throat look like. I swear she’s a spirited girl who can pass through the banks of Flanders.”
Don Quixote laughed at the rustic praise of Sancho Panza. It seemed to him that, except for Dulcinea del Toboso, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. The beautiful Quiteria was a bit pale, and must have had the bad night that brides always have getting ready for the next day when they’ll get married. They went to a platform at the side of a meadow, decorated with carpets and branches, where the wedding ceremony was to take place, and from where they were to see the dances and placards. And just when they got to that place, they heard loud shouts behind them, one of which was: “Wait up, inconsiderate and hasty people!”
At these shouts and words everyone looked back and they saw a man dressed in a black robe with crimson patches in the shape of flames. As was seen immediately afterwards, he was wearing a crown of funereal cypress on his head, and in his hand he held a large staff. As he approached everyone recognized that it was the spirited Basilio, and everyone was in suspense, waiting to see where his words were leading, and fearing some kind of trouble from his arrival at such a time.
He finally arrived, tired and out of breath, and stuck his staff into the ground—for it had a point of steel. He turned pale and looked into Quiteria’s eyes, and with a trembling and hoarse voice said these words: “You know, ungrateful Quiteria, that by the holy law that we profess, while I’m alive you cannot take a husband. And you know as well that while I was waiting for time and my diligence to improve my finances, I never failed to maintain the respect due your honor. But you, turning your back on what my love deserves, want to give what is mine to another, whose wealth not only serves him as material fortune but also makes him fortunate. And so that his happiness will be fulfilled—not that I think he deserves it, but because it’s heaven’s will—I, with my own hands, will rid the obstacle in his way, taking myself from between you. Long live, long live the rich Camacho with the ungrateful Quiteria, long and happy ages, and die, die poor Basilio, whose poverty clipped the wings of his happiness and placed him in his tomb!”
And saying this, he seized his staff that was stuck in the ground, and pulled off the top half, which served as a sheath for a half rapier that had been hidden inside. With what might be called a hilt stuck in the ground, with ease and a resolved determination, he leaped onto it, and instantly the bloody point and half the steel edge appeared at his back, and the sad fellow was bathed in blood and stretched out, pierced by his own weapon.
His friends ran over to help him, overcome by his wretched and piteous misfortune, and don Quixote dismounted from Rocinante, went over to him, took him in his arms, and saw that he’d not yet expired. They wanted to take the rapier out, but the priest, who was present, said that they shouldn’t do it until he’d confessed, because he would die as soon as it was removed. Basilio began to come to a bit, and with a sorrowful and faint voice said: “If you would, cruel Quiteria, give me your hand as my wife in this last mortal moment, I would think that my rashness would be forgiven, since through it I’d have the incredible happiness of being yours.”
The priest, hearing this, said that he should attend to the care of his soul rather than the pleasures of his body, and he should fervently ask pardon of God for his sins and his desperate act. Basilio responded that he wouldn’t confess unless Quiteria first gave him her hand to be his wife. That joy would restore his will and would give him the strength to confess.
When don Quixote heard the request of the injured one, he exclaimed that Basilio was asking for a righteous and very reasonable thing, and besides, it was very easy to accomplish, and that señor Camacho should be quite honored to receive señora Quiteria as the widow of the brave Basilio, as if he received her from her father: “Here there will be no more and than an I DO, which consists only of saying the words, since the nuptial bed of this wedding will be the grave.”
Camacho heard all of this and was left hesitant and confused, and he didn’t know what to do or say. But the outcries of Basilio’s friends were so profuse, asking him to allow Quiteria to offer her hand in marriage so that he wouldn’t lose his soul, leaving this life in such despair, that they moved, and even forced him to say that if Quiteria wanted to do it, it was all right with him since it was just putting off fulfilling his own desires for a moment.
Then they all went over to Quiteria, and some of them with entreaties, others with tears, and still others with powerful words, persuaded her to give her hand to poor Basilio, and she—harder than marble and more unmovable than a statue—showed that she didn’t know what to say, nor could she say or did she want to say anything. And she wouldn’t have said anything if the priest hadn’t told her to decide what to do in a hurry because Basilio’s soul was already at his teeth and this was no time for indecisiveness.
The beautiful Quiteria then, without saying anything, notably disturbed, and seemingly sad and filled with grief, went to Basilio, whose eyes were already upturned, was short of breath, and breathing with difficulty, murmuring Quiteria’s name under his breath, dying almost like a heathen and not like a Christian. Quiteria approached and went on her knees and by signs and not with words asked for his hand. Basilio opened his eyes and looked at her fixedly and said: “Oh, Quiteria, you’ve become merciful at a time when your mercy will be the knife that takes away my life since I no longer have the strength to enjoy the glory you’ve given me in choosing me to be yours, nor to stop the pain that is so quickly covering my eyes with the frightening shadow of death! The only thing I ask you, my fatal star, is that the hand you ask of me and the one you want to give me will not be just out of courtesy, nor to deceive me once again, but rather that you confess and say that, without forcing your free will, you’re giving me your hand as you would to your legitimate husband, since it’s not reasonable that you should deceive me in such a desperate crisis as this, nor use deception with a person who always dealt truthfully with you.”
While he said these words he fainted periodically and all those present thought that each fainting spell would take his soul along with it.
Quiteria, upright and quite shy, taking Basilio’s hand in her right hand, said to him: “No force can bend my free will, so with my freest possible will I give you my hand as your legitimate wife and I receive yours, if you give it of your free will, without the tragedy into which you’ve plunged yourself clouding or confusing your judgment.”
“Yes, I give it to you,” responded Basilio, “neither clouded nor confused, but rather with clear understanding with which heaven saw fit to endow me, and I thus give myself to you as your husband.”
“And I as your wife,” responded Quiteria, “whether you live many years or whether they take you from my arms to your grave.”
“For being in such bad shape,” said Sancho Panza, “this fellow talks a lot. They should make him stop all this courting and tend to his soul. It seems to me it’s more on his tongue than between his teeth.”
While Basilio and Quiteria were still clasping each other’s hand, the priest, tender and in tears, blessed them and asked heaven to grant sweet repose to the soul of the bridegroom, who, as soon as he received the blessing, with incredible nimbleness, leapt to his feet, and with unheard of boldness removed the rapier for which his body had been the sheath.
All those present were dumbfounded, and some who were more credulous than in the know, began to shout: “It’s a miracle! A miracle!”
But Basilio responded: “No, not a miracle; it’s just a trick, a neat trick!”
The priest, who was disturbed and astonished, ran over to feel the wound with both hands, and discovered that the point had passed, not through Basilio’s flesh and ribs, but rather through a tube that had been fitted in place, and had been filled with blood that had been treated so that it wouldn’t coagulate (as later was found out).
Finally, the priest and Camacho, with most of those present, realized that they had been tricked and deceived. The bride gave no indication that the trick displeased her, but rather, when she heard that the marriage, being fraudulent, was not binding, she said that she confirmed it again. From this they all figured that the whole thing had been planned beforehand with consent and knowledge of both parties. Camacho and his companions were very embarrassed and they sent their vengeance to their hands, unsheathing many swords and went to attack Basilio, who was instantly helped by just as many others. Don Quixote, taking the lead on horseback, with his lance couched and shield in place, made them all give way. Sancho, who never liked such mischief, went over to the stewpots where he’d gotten those agreeable skimmings, since that place seemed sacred to him and would be held inviolable.
Don Quixote shouted: “Stop, señores! It’s not right to avenge the offenses that love causes. Consider that love and war are the same thing; and just as in war it’s lawful and even customary to use ruses and stratagems to conquer the enemy, it’s the same thing in battles and competitions dealing with love. Tricks and intrigues that are used to obtain the desired goal are considered legitimate, as long as they don’t result in discredit and dishonor to the person loved. Quiteria belonged to Basilio, and Basilio to Quiteria through the just and favorable will of heaven. Camacho is rich and can buy whatever he wants, whenever, and however he wants. Basilio has only this lamb, and no one can take her away, no matter how strong he is. Those whom God has joined together cannot be separated by man, and anyone who tries to do it, will have to pass through the point of this lance first.”
And he brandished it so deftly and decisively, that he caused fear in all those who didn’t know him. And Quiteria’s rejection made such an intense impression on Camacho’s mind, that he erased her from his memory in an instant, and the persuasions of the priest, who was a prudent and well-intentioned man, were such that Camacho and his group calmed down, which they showed by sheathing their swords, and blaming Quiteria’s ready compliance more than Basilio’s cleverness, and Camacho reasoned that if Quiteria loved Basilio while unmarried, she would also love him after she was married, and that he should give thanks to heaven for having taken her away from him, rather than for allowing her to be given to him.
Once Camacho and his followers were consoled, Basilio’s followers also calmed down, and the rich Camacho, to show that he didn’t resent the trick, insisted that the festivities continue, as if he’d really married her himself. But Basilio and his wife and their followers, declined to stay, and so they went to Basilio’s village, and from this it can be seen that poor people who are virtuous and discreet have those who follow, honor, and aid them, just as the rich have those who flatter and accompany them. They took don Quixote with them, considering him to be a man of worth and with hair on his chest. It was only Sancho whose soul was darkened, since it was now impossible for him to enjoy Camacho’s splendid food and festivities, which lasted until nightfall. And so, overwrought and sad, he followed his master, who was going with the Basilio’s retinue, and thus he left the fleshpots of Egypt, although he carried them in his soul. The almost consumed skimmings from the kettle represented the glory and abundance he was losing, and so, with an aching heart, although not at all hungry, without getting off his donkey, he followed Rocinante’s hoof prints.