. Which deals with what the person who reads it will see, or the person who listens to it will hear.
WHEN THEY left Barcelona, don Quixote turned around to see where he’d fallen and said: “Here was Troy; here my misfortune—not my cowardice—snatched away all the glory I had achieved. Here’s where Fortune used its transformations and misdirections against me. Here’s where my deeds faded into darkness. Here, finally, is where my fortune fell never again to rise.”
When Sancho heard this he said: “It’s as important for brave hearts, señor mío, to bear their misfortunes as it is for them to take joy in their prosperity, and I can speak from my own experience, for if, when I was a governor I was happy, now that I’m a squire on foot, I’m not sad. I’ve heard that what they call Fate is a drunken and capricious woman, and above all, blind, and so she doesn’t see who she tears down, nor who she raises up.”
“You’re being very philosophical, Sancho,” responded don Quixote, “and you’re speaking with great wisdom. I don’t know who has educated you. What I do know is that there’s no such thing as Fate in the world, and that things that happen, good or bad, don’t happen by chance, but rather by particular providence of heaven. From this comes the common saying that «every man is the architect of his own destiny». I have been of mine, but not with the necessary prudence, and so my pride has cast me down. I should have realized that Rocinante’s frailty was no match of the massive size of the horse of the Knight of the White Moon. I was daring. I did what I could, and I was knocked down. Although I lost my honor, I didn’t lose, nor can I ever lose, the virtue of keeping my word. When I was a bold and valiant knight errant, my works and hands confirmed my deeds, and now that I’m an ordinary squire I’ll confirm my promise by keeping my word. Start walking, then, my friend, and let’s have a year of penitence in our own village, and with our seclusion, let’s recover virtue anew so we can go back to my never-forgotten profession of arms.”
“Señor,” responded Sancho, “being on foot is not so enjoyable that it makes me want to have long days of travel. Let’s leave these arms and armor hanging from a tree, like those men who were hanged, and I’ll be on the back of the grey with my feet off the ground, and we’ll make our daily travels as you wish, for as long as you want. To think I’m going to travel on foot all day is to think the unthinkable.”
“Well said, Sancho,” responded don Quixote, “Let my armor be hung as a trophy, and under or surrounding it, we’ll carve into the trees what was written around Roland’s armor:
“That seems great to me,” responded Sancho, “and if it weren’t that we’d miss him on our trek, I’d say we should hang Rocinante up as well.”
“Well, I don’t want to hang either the horse or my arms and armor,” replied don Quixote, “so that no one can say «to good service bad reward».”
“That’s well-stated, your grace,” responded Sancho, “because, according to the opinion of wise people, «the fault of the donkey should not be laid on the packsaddle». And since in this affair your grace is the only guilty party, you should punish yourself, and you shouldn’t vent your wrath on your broken and bloody armor, nor on the gentleness of Rocinante, nor on the softness of my feet, since you want me to walk more than is right.”
In these and other conversations they spent the whole day, and four more, without anything happening to them that might delay their travels, and on the fifth day, just as they were going into a village, they saw many people gathered in front of an inn taking their leisure, since it was a holiday.
When they drew near, a peasant raised his voice, saying: “One of these two señores approaching, and who don’t know the circumstances, can tell what should be done with our wager.”
“Certainly, I’ll be able to judge,” said don Quixote, “and with all fairness, if I can understand what the situation is.”
“It happens,” said the peasant, “good señor, that a resident of this village, who is so fat that he weighs eleven arrobas, challenged a neighbor of his to a race, and he weighs no more than five. The condition was that they had to run a race of a hundred meters with equal weight. When they asked the challenger how the weight was supposed to be equalized, he said that the challenged man should carry six arrobas of iron on his back, and in that way the eleven arrobas of the thin man would equal the eleven of the fat one.”
“No, no,” interrupted Sancho, before don Quixote could answer. “Just a few days ago I was a governor and a judge, as everyone knows, and had to resolve doubts and render judgments in all legal cases.”
“You answer, then,” said don Quixote, “Sancho, my friend. I’m of no use since my mind is shaken up and twisted around.”
With this permission, Sancho said to the peasants, for many had gathered around him in anxious expectation of the ruling that would come from Sancho’s mouth: “Brothers, what the fat man asks is inappropriate and shows no justice at all, because if it’s true what they say that the challenger can choose the arms, it isn’t just that he should choose such ones that would prevent the other from winning the contest. So, it’s my opinion that the challenger should prune, peel, scrape, pare, trim, and clear away six arrobas of his flesh from different parts of his body, in the best way he can think of and that suits him the best, and in this way he’ll weigh five arrobas and will be the same weight as his contrary, and in that way they can run with equal weight.”
“I swear,” said a peasant who heard Sancho’s judgment, “this man has spoken like a saint and judged like a canon. But on my faith, the fat man won’t want to take off an ounce from his flesh, not to mention six arrobas.”
“The best thing is for them not to race,” responded another, “so that the thin one won’t crumble under the extra weight, nor the fat one lose weight. Let half the wager go for wine, and let’s take these two men to the tavern with the good wine, and I assume responsibility for the decision.”
“I thank you, señores,” responded don Quixote, “but I cannot delay a single second, because my deep thoughts and certain sad events make me seem discourteous and force me to move on swiftly.”
And so, spurring Rocinante, he moved on, leaving them in wonder at having seen his strange figure as well as the wisdom of his servant, for that’s what they thought Sancho to be.
And another of the peasants said: “If the servant is so wise, what must the master be like? I’ll bet if they’re on their way to study at Salamanca, and in an instant they’ll be judges in the royal court. It’s just study, and study some more, and everything else is inconsequential. And with a few favors and a bit of luck, when a man least expects it, he finds himself with a staff in his hand and a miter on his head.”
Master and man spent that night in the open countryside, and the next day, as they continued their journey, they saw coming toward them a man with a pack on his shoulders and a short lance in his hand, and when he got close to don Quixote he quickened his step, and half-running he went over to him, and embracing him around his right thigh (for he could reach no further), he said, showing great joy: “Oh, my señor don Quixote, what pleasure it will be to my master the duke’s heart when he finds out you’re returning to his castle! He’s still there with his wife, the duchess.”
“I don’t recognize you,” responded don Quixote, “nor will I know who you are, unless you tell me.”
“I, señor don Quixote,” responded the messenger, “am Tosilos, the groom of the duke my master, the fellow who refused to fight with your grace over the marriage of doña Rodriguez’s daughter.”
“God help me!” said don Quixote, “is it possible that you’re the person that my enemies the enchanters transformed into a groom to defraud me of the honor from that battle?”
“Hush, good señor,” replied the messenger, “there was no enchantment at all. When I went into the fray, I was the same groom Tosilos as when I came out of it. I thought I could marry without fighting since the girl seemed so nice. But it came out the opposite of what I planned, because as soon as your grace left the castle, the duke my master had me lashed a hundred times for having gone against the orders he gave me before I went into the battle. The girl is now a nun, and doña Rodriguez has gone back to Castile, and I’m on my way to Barcelona to take a packet of letters to the viceroy that my master is sending him. If you would like a swallow, I have some of the good stuff in this gourd—it’s pure, although a bit warm, and I have some slices of Tronchón cheese, which can be an appetizer and an awakener of thirst, in case yours is sleeping.”
“I accept the invitation,” said Sancho. “Take out everything else you have to eat, and let the good Tosilos pour out a dram in spite of all the enchanters there are in the Indies.”
“So,” don Quixote, “you are, Sancho, the biggest glutton in the world, and the greatest fool on earth, since you’re not persuaded that this messenger is enchanted, and this Tosilos is counterfeit. You stay behind with him and I’ll go on ahead, waiting for you to come.”
The groom laughed and took out his gourd and cheese from the saddlebags, as well as some bread, and Sancho and he sat on the green grass, and in peace and good fellowship ate until they reached the bottom of the saddlebags, and with such relish, that they even licked the packet of letters since it smelled of cheese.
Tosilos said to Sancho: “Without a doubt, this master of yours, Sancho my friend, must have a screw loose.”
“What do you mean ‘a screw loose’?” responded Sancho. “Practically all his screws are loose. I know it, and I’ve told him so, but what good does it do? And even more, now that his career is ended, since he was defeated by the Knight of the White Moon.”
Tosilos asked him to explain what had happened. But Sancho responded that it was discourteous to leave his master waiting for him. On another occasion, if they should meet again, there would be time enough to tell him everything. And getting up, after having shaken off his coat and removed the crumbs from his beard, he led the donkey away, and met up with his master who was waiting for him in the shade of a tree.