With these words Don Quixote held his peace, and, from the time he took

to answer, the man in green seemed to be at a loss for a reply; after a

long pause, however, he said to him, "You were right when you saw

curiosity in my amazement, sir knight; but you have not succeeded in

removing the astonishment I feel at seeing you; for although you say,

senor, that knowing who you are ought to remove it, it has not done so;

on the contrary, now that I know, I am left more amazed and astonished

than before. What! is it possible that there are knights-errant in the

world in these days, and histories of real chivalry printed? I cannot

realise the fact that there can be anyone on earth now-a-days who aids

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widows, or protects maidens, or defends wives, or succours orphans; nor

should I believe it had I not seen it in your worship with my own eyes.

Blessed be heaven! for by means of this history of your noble and genuine

chivalrous deeds, which you say has been printed, the countless stories

of fictitious knights-errant with which the world is filled, so much to

the injury of morality and the prejudice and discredit of good histories,

will have been driven into oblivion."

"There is a good deal to be said on that point," said Don Quixote, "as to

whether the histories of the knights-errant are fiction or not."

"Why, is there anyone who doubts that those histories are false?" said

the man in green.

"I doubt it," said Don Quixote, "but never mind that just now; if our

journey lasts long enough, I trust in God I shall show your worship that

you do wrong in going with the stream of those who regard it as a matter

of certainty that they are not true."

From this last observation of Don Quixote's, the traveller began to have

a suspicion that he was some crazy being, and was waiting him to confirm

it by something further; but before they could turn to any new subject

Don Quixote begged him to tell him who he was, since he himself had

rendered account of his station and life. To this, he in the green gaban

replied "I, Sir Knight of the Rueful Countenance, am a gentleman by

birth, native of the village where, please God, we are going to dine

today; I am more than fairly well off, and my name is Don Diego de

Miranda. I pass my life with my wife, children, and friends; my pursuits

are hunting and fishing, but I keep neither hawks nor greyhounds, nothing

but a tame partridge or a bold ferret or two; I have six dozen or so of

books, some in our mother tongue, some Latin, some of them history,

others devotional; those of chivalry have not as yet crossed the

threshold of my door; I am more given to turning over the profane than

the devotional, so long as they are books of honest entertainment that

charm by their style and attract and interest by the invention they

display, though of these there are very few in Spain. Sometimes I dine

with my neighbours and friends, and often invite them; my entertainments

are neat and well served without stint of anything. I have no taste for

tattle, nor do I allow tattling in my presence; I pry not into my

neighbours' lives, nor have I lynx-eyes for what others do. I hear mass

every day; I share my substance with the poor, making no display of good

works, lest I let hypocrisy and vainglory, those enemies that subtly take

possession of the most watchful heart, find an entrance into mine. I

strive to make peace between those whom I know to be at variance; I am

the devoted servant of Our Lady, and my trust is ever in the infinite

mercy of God our Lord."




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