WHEREIN AN ACCOUNT IS GIVEN OF THE WEDDING OF CAMACHO THE RICH, TOGETHER

WITH THE INCIDENT OF BASILIO THE POOR

Scarce had the fair Aurora given bright Phoebus time to dry the liquid

pearls upon her golden locks with the heat of his fervent rays, when Don

Quixote, shaking off sloth from his limbs, sprang to his feet and called

to his squire Sancho, who was still snoring; seeing which Don Quixote ere

he roused him thus addressed him: "Happy thou, above all the dwellers on

the face of the earth, that, without envying or being envied, sleepest

with tranquil mind, and that neither enchanters persecute nor

enchantments affright. Sleep, I say, and will say a hundred times,

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without any jealous thoughts of thy mistress to make thee keep ceaseless

vigils, or any cares as to how thou art to pay the debts thou owest, or

find to-morrow's food for thyself and thy needy little family, to

interfere with thy repose. Ambition breaks not thy rest, nor doth this

world's empty pomp disturb thee, for the utmost reach of thy anxiety is

to provide for thy ass, since upon my shoulders thou hast laid the

support of thyself, the counterpoise and burden that nature and custom

have imposed upon masters. The servant sleeps and the master lies awake

thinking how he is to feed him, advance him, and reward him. The distress

of seeing the sky turn brazen, and withhold its needful moisture from the

earth, is not felt by the servant but by the master, who in time of

scarcity and famine must support him who has served him in times of

plenty and abundance."

To all this Sancho made no reply because he was asleep, nor would he have

wakened up so soon as he did had not Don Quixote brought him to his

senses with the butt of his lance. He awoke at last, drowsy and lazy, and

casting his eyes about in every direction, observed, "There comes, if I

don't mistake, from the quarter of that arcade a steam and a smell a

great deal more like fried rashers than galingale or thyme; a wedding

that begins with smells like that, by my faith, ought to be plentiful and

unstinting."

"Have done, thou glutton," said Don Quixote; "come, let us go and witness

this bridal, and see what the rejected Basilio does."

"Let him do what he likes," returned Sancho; "be he not poor, he would

marry Quiteria. To make a grand match for himself, and he without a

farthing; is there nothing else? Faith, senor, it's my opinion the poor

man should be content with what he can get, and not go looking for

dainties in the bottom of the sea. I will bet my arm that Camacho could

bury Basilio in reals; and if that be so, as no doubt it is, what a fool

Quiteria would be to refuse the fine dresses and jewels Camacho must have

given her and will give her, and take Basilio's bar-throwing and

sword-play. They won't give a pint of wine at the tavern for a good cast

of the bar or a neat thrust of the sword. Talents and accomplishments

that can't be turned into money, let Count Dirlos have them; but when

such gifts fall to one that has hard cash, I wish my condition of life

was as becoming as they are. On a good foundation you can raise a good

building, and the best foundation in the world is money."




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