Tom Cecial, seeing how ill they had succeeded, and what a sorry end their
expedition had come to, said to the bachelor, "Sure enough, Senor Samson
Carrasco, we are served right; it is easy enough to plan and set about an
enterprise, but it is often a difficult matter to come well out of it.
Don Quixote a madman, and we sane; he goes off laughing, safe, and sound,
and you are left sore and sorry! I'd like to know now which is the
madder, he who is so because he cannot help it, or he who is so of his
own choice?"
To which Samson replied, "The difference between the two sorts of madmen
is, that he who is so will he nil he, will be one always, while he who is
so of his own accord can leave off being one whenever he likes."
"In that case," said Tom Cecial, "I was a madman of my own accord when I
volunteered to become your squire, and, of my own accord, I'll leave off
being one and go home."
"That's your affair," returned Samson, "but to suppose that I am going
home until I have given Don Quixote a thrashing is absurd; and it is not
any wish that he may recover his senses that will make me hunt him out
now, but a wish for the sore pain I am in with my ribs won't let me
entertain more charitable thoughts."
Thus discoursing, the pair proceeded until they reached a town where it
was their good luck to find a bone-setter, with whose help the
unfortunate Samson was cured. Tom Cecial left him and went home, while he
stayed behind meditating vengeance; and the history will return to him
again at the proper time, so as not to omit making merry with Don Quixote
now.