"It is all," said Don Quixote, "a scheme and plot of the malignant

magicians that persecute me, who, foreseeing that I was to be victorious

in the conflict, arranged that the vanquished knight should display the

countenance of my friend the bachelor, in order that the friendship I

bear him should interpose to stay the edge of my sword and might of my

arm, and temper the just wrath of my heart; so that he who sought to take

my life by fraud and falsehood should save his own. And to prove it, thou

knowest already, Sancho, by experience which cannot lie or deceive, how

easy it is for enchanters to change one countenance into another, turning

fair into foul, and foul into fair; for it is not two days since thou

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sawest with thine own eyes the beauty and elegance of the peerless

Dulcinea in all its perfection and natural harmony, while I saw her in

the repulsive and mean form of a coarse country wench, with cataracts in

her eyes and a foul smell in her mouth; and when the perverse enchanter

ventured to effect so wicked a transformation, it is no wonder if he

effected that of Samson Carrasco and thy gossip in order to snatch the

glory of victory out of my grasp. For all that, however, I console

myself, because, after all, in whatever shape he may have been, I have

victorious over my enemy."

"God knows what's the truth of it all," said Sancho; and knowing as he

did that the transformation of Dulcinea had been a device and imposition

of his own, his master's illusions were not satisfactory to him; but he

did not like to reply lest he should say something that might disclose

his trickery.

As they were engaged in this conversation they were overtaken by a man

who was following the same road behind them, mounted on a very handsome

flea-bitten mare, and dressed in a gaban of fine green cloth, with tawny

velvet facings, and a montera of the same velvet. The trappings of the

mare were of the field and jineta fashion, and of mulberry colour and

green. He carried a Moorish cutlass hanging from a broad green and gold

baldric; the buskins were of the same make as the baldric; the spurs were

not gilt, but lacquered green, and so brightly polished that, matching as

they did the rest of his apparel, they looked better than if they had

been of pure gold.

When the traveller came up with them he saluted them courteously, and

spurring his mare was passing them without stopping, but Don Quixote

called out to him, "Gallant sir, if so be your worship is going our road,

and has no occasion for speed, it would be a pleasure to me if we were to

join company."




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