With trenchant swords upraised and poised on high, it seemed as though
the two valiant and wrathful combatants stood threatening heaven, and
earth, and hell, with such resolution and determination did they bear
themselves. The fiery Biscayan was the first to strike a blow, which was
delivered with such force and fury that had not the sword turned in its
course, that single stroke would have sufficed to put an end to the
bitter struggle and to all the adventures of our knight; but that good
fortune which reserved him for greater things, turned aside the sword of
his adversary, so that although it smote him upon the left shoulder, it
did him no more harm than to strip all that side of its armour, carrying
away a great part of his helmet with half of his ear, all which with
fearful ruin fell to the ground, leaving him in a sorry plight.
Good God! Who is there that could properly describe the rage that filled
the heart of our Manchegan when he saw himself dealt with in this
fashion? All that can be said is, it was such that he again raised
himself in his stirrups, and, grasping his sword more firmly with both
hands, he came down on the Biscayan with such fury, smiting him full over
the cushion and over the head, that--even so good a shield proving
useless--as if a mountain had fallen on him, he began to bleed from nose,
mouth, and ears, reeling as if about to fall backwards from his mule, as
no doubt he would have done had he not flung his arms about its neck; at
the same time, however, he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and then
unclasped his arms, and the mule, taking fright at the terrible blow,
made off across the plain, and with a few plunges flung its master to the
ground. Don Quixote stood looking on very calmly, and, when he saw him
fall, leaped from his horse and with great briskness ran to him, and,
presenting the point of his sword to his eyes, bade him surrender, or he
would cut his head off. The Biscayan was so bewildered that he was unable
to answer a word, and it would have gone hard with him, so blind was Don
Quixote, had not the ladies in the coach, who had hitherto been watching
the combat in great terror, hastened to where he stood and implored him
with earnest entreaties to grant them the great grace and favour of
sparing their squire's life; to which Don Quixote replied with much
gravity and dignity, "In truth, fair ladies, I am well content to do what
ye ask of me; but it must be on one condition and understanding, which is
that this knight promise me to go to the village of El Toboso, and on my
behalf present himself before the peerless lady Dulcinea, that she deal
with him as shall be most pleasing to her."