"What blood and fountains are you talking about, enemy of God and his

saints?" said the landlord. "Don't you see, you thief, that the blood and

the fountain are only these skins here that have been stabbed and the red

wine swimming all over the room?--and I wish I saw the soul of him that

stabbed them swimming in hell."

"I know nothing about that," said Sancho; "all I know is it will be my

bad luck that through not finding this head my county will melt away like

salt in water;"--for Sancho awake was worse than his master asleep, so

much had his master's promises addled his wits.

The landlord was beside himself at the coolness of the squire and the

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mischievous doings of the master, and swore it should not be like the

last time when they went without paying; and that their privileges of

chivalry should not hold good this time to let one or other of them off

without paying, even to the cost of the plugs that would have to be put

to the damaged wine-skins. The curate was holding Don Quixote's hands,

who, fancying he had now ended the adventure and was in the presence of

the Princess Micomicona, knelt before the curate and said, "Exalted and

beauteous lady, your highness may live from this day forth fearless of

any harm this base being could do you; and I too from this day forth am

released from the promise I gave you, since by the help of God on high

and by the favour of her by whom I live and breathe, I have fulfilled it

so successfully."

"Did not I say so?" said Sancho on hearing this. "You see I wasn't drunk;

there you see my master has already salted the giant; there's no doubt

about the bulls; my county is all right!"

Who could have helped laughing at the absurdities of the pair, master and

man? And laugh they did, all except the landlord, who cursed himself; but

at length the barber, Cardenio, and the curate contrived with no small

trouble to get Don Quixote on the bed, and he fell asleep with every

appearance of excessive weariness. They left him to sleep, and came out

to the gate of the inn to console Sancho Panza on not having found the

head of the giant; but much more work had they to appease the landlord,

who was furious at the sudden death of his wine-skins; and said the

landlady half scolding, half crying, "At an evil moment and in an unlucky

hour he came into my house, this knight-errant--would that I had never

set eyes on him, for dear he has cost me; the last time he went off with

the overnight score against him for supper, bed, straw, and barley, for

himself and his squire and a hack and an ass, saying he was a knight

adventurer--God send unlucky adventures to him and all the adventurers in

the world--and therefore not bound to pay anything, for it was so settled

by the knight-errantry tariff: and then, all because of him, came the

other gentleman and carried off my tail, and gives it back more than two

cuartillos the worse, all stripped of its hair, so that it is no use for

my husband's purpose; and then, for a finishing touch to all, to burst my

wine-skins and spill my wine! I wish I saw his own blood spilt! But let

him not deceive himself, for, by the bones of my father and the shade of

my mother, they shall pay me down every quarts; or my name is not what it

is, and I am not my father's daughter." All this and more to the same

effect the landlady delivered with great irritation, and her good maid

Maritornes backed her up, while the daughter held her peace and smiled

from time to time. The curate smoothed matters by promising to make good

all losses to the best of his power, not only as regarded the wine-skins

but also the wine, and above all the depreciation of the tail which they

set such store by. Dorothea comforted Sancho, telling him that she

pledged herself, as soon as it should appear certain that his master had

decapitated the giant, and she found herself peacefully established in

her kingdom, to bestow upon him the best county there was in it. With

this Sancho consoled himself, and assured the princess she might rely

upon it that he had seen the head of the giant, and more by token it had

a beard that reached to the girdle, and that if it was not to be seen now

it was because everything that happened in that house went by

enchantment, as he himself had proved the last time he had lodged there.

Dorothea said she fully believed it, and that he need not be uneasy, for

all would go well and turn out as he wished. All therefore being

appeased, the curate was anxious to go on with the novel, as he saw there

was but little more left to read. Dorothea and the others begged him to

finish it, and he, as he was willing to please them, and enjoyed reading

it himself, continued the tale in these words:




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