About the delicious conversation that the duchess and her maidens had with Sancho Panza, worthy of being read and noted.
THE HISTORY states, then, that Sancho didn’t have that siesta, but rather, in order to keep his word, after eating, he went to visit the duchess, who, given the pleasure she got by listening to him, had him sit next to her in a low chair, although Sancho, being such a good servant, didn’t want to sit. But the duchess told him to sit down as a governor and speak as a squire, and that he deserved the very same bench that belonged to the Cid, Ruy Díaz, the Warrior.
Sancho shrugged his shoulders, obeyed, and sat down, and all the duchess’s maidens and duennas surrounded him and were quite attentive, and were absolutely still so they could hear what he would say.
The duchess was the one who spoke first, saying: “Now that we’re alone and no one can hear us, I would like the señor governor to resolve a few doubts I have, born of the history that has been printed about the great don Quixote. One of these is that since the good Sancho never saw señora Dulcinea, I mean, señora Dulcinea del Toboso, nor did he take don Quixote’s letter, because it stayed behind in the diary in the Sierra Morena, how was it that he dared to fabricate an answer and say that he found her winnowing wheat when it was all a trick and a lie, to the detriment of the reputation of the peerless Dulcinea, and quite out of keeping with the character and loyalty of good squires.”
At these words, without giving any answer, Sancho stood up from his chair, and with quiet steps, his body hunched over, and his finger placed on his lips, walked all around the room, lifting the curtains, and then, having done this, went back and sat down again and said: “Now, señora mía, that I’ve seen that no one is listening to us on the sly, outside of those present, I’ll answer what has been asked and everything else that may be asked me without fear or distress. And first I want to say that I’m convinced that my master don Quixote is completely mad, although sometimes he says things that, in my opinion and even of those who listen to him, are so wise and on the right track that Satan himself couldn’t say them any better. But even so, truly and without any doubt, it strikes me that he’s a half-wit.
“So, with this in mind, I dare to make him believe things that have no head nor foot, as was the case with the response to that letter, and that business of maybe six or eight days ago, which isn’t yet in the history—I’m talking about the enchantment of my lady Dulcinea. I’ve led him to believe that she’s enchanted, although she’s no more so than «the hills of Úbeda».”
The duchess begged him to tell her about that enchantment or ruse, and Sancho told it exactly as it had happened, from which his listeners derived no little pleasure.
And continuing Sancho’s thought, the duchess said: “What the good Sancho has told me causes a little qualm to flit about in my soul, and there’s a whisper in my ear, saying: if don Quixote de La Mancha is crazy, witless, and an idiot, and Sancho Panza, his squire, knows it, and even so serves and follows him, and believes in his vain promises, he doubtless must be crazier than his master. And if this is so, as it is, it’ll be bad for you, señora duchess, if you give an ínsula to this Sancho Panza to govern, for if he cannot govern himself, how can he govern others?”
“Before God, señora,” said Sancho, “this qualm is well founded. But you can tell it that it doesn’t need to whisper because I know that what it says is true. If I were wise, I should have left my master days ago. But this was my luck and misfortune. I can’t help it—I have to follow him. We’re from the same town, I’ve eaten at his table, I like him a lot, he’s grateful, he gave me his donkey colts, and above all, I’m faithful. So it’s impossible for us to be separated, except by the one who has the pick and shovel. If your highness doesn’t wish to give me the promised government, God made me for less, and it might be that not giving it to me would be better for my conscience, for although I’m dull, I understand the proverb that says: «to its detriment the ant grew wings».
“And it may even be that Sancho the squire will enter heaven before Sancho the governor. «They make as good bread here as they do in France» and «at night all cats are black». «Unlucky is the man who hasn’t broken fast by two in the afternoon». «There’s no stomach that’s half a foot bigger than another», and «it can get full, as they say, with straw or hay», and «the little birds of the field have God as their provider». And «four yards of Cuenca flannel warms better than four yards of fine silk from Segovia». And «when we leave this world and get put into the ground, the prince has to travel a path as narrow as the day-laborer», and «the body of the pope takes up no more feet of earth than the sexton», even though one may be taller than the other, because when we enter the grave we all have to adjust and scrunch up, or rather they make us adjust and scrunch up, even though we may not like it, and good night. And I say again that if your ladyship doesn’t want to give me the ínsula because I’m dull, I’m smart enough not to let it bother me. And I’ve heard it said that «behind the cross lurks the devil», and «not all’s gold that glitters» and that they took the farmer Wamba from between two oxen, plows, and yokes, and made him king of Spain, and that from his brocades, pastimes, and riches they took King Rodrigo to be eaten by snakes, if the old ballads don’t lie.”
“How can they lie?” interrupted doña Rodríguez, the duenna, who was one of the listeners. “There’s a ballad that says that they put King Rodrigo alive, I mean alive, in a tomb filled with toads, snakes, and lizards, and two days later the king said from inside the tomb, with a pitiful voice:
And according to this, this fellow is very correct in saying that he prefers to be a peasant than a king, if vermin are going to eat him.”
The duchess couldn’t contain her laughter hearing the simplicity of her duenna, nor could she cease to wonder at the words and wisdom of Sancho, to whom she said: “The good Sancho knows that once a knight makes a promise, he endeavors to keep it, even though it might cost him his life. The duke, my lord and husband, although he’s not among the errants, he’s still a knight, and he’ll keep his word about the promised ínsula, in spite of all the envy and malice of the world. Let Sancho be of good cheer, and when least he’s thinking about it he’ll see himself sitting on the throne of his domain, and will grasp his government, which he can trade in for a brocade of three layers. What I charge him to do is take care how he governs his vassals, remembering that they’re all well-born and loyal.”
“Regarding the matter of governing well,” responded Sancho, “there’s no need to charge me with anything because I’m charitable by nature and I have compassion for the poor and «don’t steal bread from the person who kneads and bakes». And by the Holy Cross, «they won’t throw loaded dice on me». «I’m an old dog and I understand ‘come here, boy!’», and I know how to wake up at the right time, and no cobwebs will be spun over my eyes, because «I know where my shoe pinches». I say this because with me the good people will have help and flavor—I mean, favor—and the bad people won’t even be able to put their foot in the door. And it seems to me that in this business of governments «a good beginning is everything», and it may be that after two weeks I’ll really like the office and I’ll know more about governing than the way I was raised to till the soil.”
“You’re quite right,” said the duchess, “because «no one is born educated» and «bishops come from men, not from rocks». But going back to the conversation we were having about the enchantment of the lady Dulcinea, I happen to know for certain and from a reliable source that what Sancho thought was a joke on his master—making him think that the peasant girl was Dulcinea, and that the reason his master didn’t recognize her was because she was enchanted, and it was the work of one of the enchanters who persecute him—well, I know for certain that the peasant girl who leapt onto the she-ass was and really is Dulcinea del Toboso, and that Sancho, thinking he was the deceiver turns out to be the deceived one, and there’s no reason to doubt this any more than to doubt other things that we have never seen. Also, Sancho should know that we also have enchanters who favor us and tell us what is happening in the world, purely and simply, and without circumlocutions and deceptions. And may Sancho believe me when I say that the leaping peasant girl was and is Dulcinea del Toboso, and she’s about as enchanted as the mother who bore her. And when least we suspect it, we’ll see her in her real form, and then Sancho will be rid of the delusion under which he lives.”
“All this may easily be,” said Sancho Panza, “and now I want to believe what my master tells me about what he saw in the Cave of Montesinos, where he says he saw lady Dulcinea del Toboso in the same outfit and habit that I said I had seen her in when I enchanted her for my own pleasure. Everything must be the reverse, as your grace, señora mía, says, because with my limited intelligence one cannot expect me to make up in an instant such a clever trick, nor do I believe that my master is so crazy that with my weak and feeble persuasion he would believe something that’s so unlikely. But, señora, I hope you won’t think I’m mischievous because of this, because a blockhead such as myself, is not supposed to penetrate the thoughts and evil acts of bad enchanters. I made that up to escape my master’s scolding and with no intention of doing him harm. And if it turned out the opposite way, «God is in His heaven and He judges our hearts».”
“That’s the truth,” said the duchess, “but tell me now, Sancho, what’s this business about the Cave of Montesinos. I’d like to find out about it.”
So Sancho told her, point by point, what has been said about that adventure. When she heard it, the duchess said: “From this, one can infer that since the great don Quixote says he saw the same peasant girl there that Sancho had seen leaving El Toboso, she’s doubtless Dulcinea, and it appears we have some clever and quite curious enchanters around here.”
“That’s what I say,” said Sancho Panza, “and if my lady Dulcinea del Toboso is enchanted, too bad for her, though I shouldn’t take on my master’s enemies, who must be many and evil. The truth of the matter is that the person I saw was a peasant girl, and if that was Dulcinea, it’s not my fault, and they can’t blame me. Let them not come at me every step of the way saying: ‘You tell me and I’ll tell you; Sancho said it, Sancho did it, Sancho went and Sancho came back,’ as if I were a nobody, and not the same Sancho Panza who circulates in books throughout the world, according to what Sansón Carrasco told me, and he has, at least, been bachelored by Salamanca. And graduates from there cannot lie, except when they feel like it, or it suits their purpose. So there’s no reason for anyone to pick a fight with me, and the way I heard my master say it, «a good name is worth more than great wealth», so let them put this government on me and they’ll see miracles. For whoever has been a good squire will be a good governor.”
“Everything that the good Sancho has said here,” said the duchess, “is Catonian maxims, or at least taken from the very soul of Micael Verino, florentibus occidit annis. Indeed, indeed, speaking the way he does, «under a bad cloak you can find a good drinker».
“In truth, señora,” responded Sancho, “I’ve never in my life used drinking as a vice. When I’m thirsty, maybe, because there’s nothing of the hypocrite about me. I drink when I feel like it, and when I don’t, and when it’s offered to me (so as not to appear prudish or ill-bred). When it comes to toasting a friend, what heart can be so hard as not to raise a glass? But although «I do wear shoes, I don’t get mud on them». And what’s more, squires of knights errant usually just drink water because they’re always running around forests, fields, mountains, and cliffs, without finding a drop of wine, even if they were willing to trade an eye for some.”
“That’s what I think, too,” responded the duchess, “and in the meantime, let Sancho go rest, and afterwards we’ll speak further and we’ll see how we’ll ‘put this government on him,’ to use his expression.”
Sancho kissed the duchess’s hands again, and begged her to do him the favor of taking good care of his grey, because he was the light of his eyes.
“What grey is this?” asked the duchess.
“My donkey,” responded Sancho. “Since I don’t want to refer to him just as a donkey, I often call him THE GREY, and I begged this duenna when I came into this castle, to take care of him, and she got quite upset, as if I had said she was ugly or old, but duennas are better suited to feed donkeys than swagger about halls. I swear to God, a man from my village really had it in for these ladies!”
“He must really have been a lowlife,” said doña Rodríguez. “If he were an hidalgo and well-born, he would have praised them to high heavens.”
“All right,” said the duchess, “no more of this. Let doña Rodríguez keep still and señor Panza calm down and leave the comfort of the donkey in my care, because since he belongs to Sancho, I’ll consider him the light of my own eyes.”
“It’s enough for him to be put in the stable,” responded Sancho, “because neither he nor I are worthy of being the light of the eyes of your highness. And I would no more consent to it than I would to stab myself a couple of times, although my master says that where courtesy is concerned, «it’s better to lose by a card too many than one too few», in matters of donkeys, one should be prudent and take the middle road.”
“Let Sancho take him,” said the duchess, “to his government, and there he can pamper him as much as he wants, and even put him out to pasture.”
“Your grace, señora duchess, shouldn’t think she has exaggerated,” said Sancho. “I’ve seen more than two jackasses go to governments, and taking mine with me wouldn’t be anything new.”
Sancho’s words renewed the duchess’s laughter and delight, and after she sent him off to rest, she went to tell the duke what had transpired between them. And the two of them made a plan to play a joke on don Quixote that would be in the chivalresque style, and they later played many more on him, so inventive and ingenious, that they’re the best adventures in this great history.