OF THE LAUGHABLE CONVERSATION THAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE, SANCHO

PANZA, AND THE BACHELOR SAMSON CARRASCO

Don Quixote remained very deep in thought, waiting for the bachelor

Carrasco, from whom he was to hear how he himself had been put into a

book as Sancho said; and he could not persuade himself that any such

history could be in existence, for the blood of the enemies he had slain

was not yet dry on the blade of his sword, and now they wanted to make

out that his mighty achievements were going about in print. For all that,

he fancied some sage, either a friend or an enemy, might, by the aid of

magic, have given them to the press; if a friend, in order to magnify and

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exalt them above the most famous ever achieved by any knight-errant; if

an enemy, to bring them to naught and degrade them below the meanest ever

recorded of any low squire, though as he said to himself, the

achievements of squires never were recorded. If, however, it were the

fact that such a history were in existence, it must necessarily, being

the story of a knight-errant, be grandiloquent, lofty, imposing, grand

and true. With this he comforted himself somewhat, though it made him

uncomfortable to think that the author was a Moor, judging by the title

of "Cide;" and that no truth was to be looked for from Moors, as they are

all impostors, cheats, and schemers. He was afraid he might have dealt

with his love affairs in some indecorous fashion, that might tend to the

discredit and prejudice of the purity of his lady Dulcinea del Toboso; he

would have had him set forth the fidelity and respect he had always

observed towards her, spurning queens, empresses, and damsels of all

sorts, and keeping in check the impetuosity of his natural impulses.

Absorbed and wrapped up in these and divers other cogitations, he was

found by Sancho and Carrasco, whom Don Quixote received with great

courtesy.

The bachelor, though he was called Samson, was of no great bodily size,

but he was a very great wag; he was of a sallow complexion, but very

sharp-witted, somewhere about four-and-twenty years of age, with a round

face, a flat nose, and a large mouth, all indications of a mischievous

disposition and a love of fun and jokes; and of this he gave a sample as

soon as he saw Don Quixote, by falling on his knees before him and

saying, "Let me kiss your mightiness's hand, Senor Don Quixote of La

Mancha, for, by the habit of St. Peter that I wear, though I have no more

than the first four orders, your worship is one of the most famous

knights-errant that have ever been, or will be, all the world over. A

blessing on Cide Hamete Benengeli, who has written the history of your

great deeds, and a double blessing on that connoisseur who took the

trouble of having it translated out of the Arabic into our Castilian

vulgar tongue for the universal entertainment of the people!"




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