Don Quixote

WHEREIN IS RELATED THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND DISTRESSED OR AFFLICTED
DUENNA, OTHERWISE CALLED DOÑA RODRIGUEZ
Cide Hamete relates that Don Quixote being now cured of his scratches
felt that the life he was leading in the castle was entirely
inconsistent with the order of chivalry he professed, so he determined
to ask the duke and duchess to permit him to take his departure for
Saragossa, as the time of the festival was now drawing near, and he
hoped to win there the suit of armour which is the prize at festivals
of the sort. But one day at table with the duke and duchess, just as he
was about to carry his resolution into effect and ask for their
permission, lo and behold suddenly there came in through the door of
the great hall two women, as they afterwards proved to be, draped in
mourning from head to foot, one of whom approaching Don Quixote flung
herself at full length at his feet, pressing her lips to them, and
uttering moans so sad, so deep, and so doleful that she put all who
heard and saw her into a state of perplexity; and though the duke and
duchess supposed it must be some joke their servants were playing off
upon Don Quixote, still the earnest way the woman sighed and moaned and
wept puzzled them and made them feel uncertain, until Don Quixote,
touched with compassion, raised her up and made her unveil herself and
remove the mantle from her tearful face. She complied and disclosed
what no one could have ever anticipated, for she disclosed the
countenance of Doña Rodriguez, the duenna of the house; the other
female in mourning being her daughter, who had been made a fool of by
the rich farmer’s son. All who knew her were filled with astonishment,
and the duke and duchess more than any; for though they thought her a
simpleton and a weak creature, they did not think her capable of crazy
pranks. Doña Rodriguez, at length, turning to her master and mistress
said to them, “Will your excellences be pleased to permit me to speak
to this gentleman for a moment, for it is requisite I should do so in
order to get successfully out of the business in which the boldness of
an evil-minded clown has involved me?”

The duke said that for his part he gave her leave, and that she might
speak with Señor Don Quixote as much as she liked.

She then, turning to Don Quixote and addressing herself to him said,
“Some days since, valiant knight, I gave you an account of the
injustice and treachery of a wicked farmer to my dearly beloved
daughter, the unhappy damsel here before you, and you promised me to
take her part and right the wrong that has been done her; but now it
has come to my hearing that you are about to depart from this castle in
quest of such fair adventures as God may vouchsafe to you; therefore,
before you take the road, I would that you challenge this froward
rustic, and compel him to marry my daughter in fulfillment of the
promise he gave her to become her husband before he seduced her; for to
expect that my lord the duke will do me justice is to ask pears from
the elm tree, for the reason I stated privately to your worship; and so
may our Lord grant you good health and forsake us not.”

To these words Don Quixote replied very gravely and solemnly, “Worthy
duenna, check your tears, or rather dry them, and spare your sighs, for
I take it upon myself to obtain redress for your daughter, for whom it
would have been better not to have been so ready to believe lovers’
promises, which are for the most part quickly made and very slowly
performed; and so, with my lord the duke’s leave, I will at once go in
quest of this inhuman youth, and will find him out and challenge him
and slay him, if so be he refuses to keep his promised word; for the
chief object of my profession is to spare the humble and chastise the
proud; I mean, to help the distressed and destroy the oppressors.”

“There is no necessity,” said the duke, “for your worship to take the
trouble of seeking out the rustic of whom this worthy duenna complains,
nor is there any necessity, either, for asking my leave to challenge
him; for I admit him duly challenged, and will take care that he is
informed of the challenge, and accepts it, and comes to answer it in
person to this castle of mine, where I shall afford to both a fair
field, observing all the conditions which are usually and properly
observed in such trials, and observing too justice to both sides, as
all princes who offer a free field to combatants within the limits of
their lordships are bound to do.”

“Then with that assurance and your highness’s good leave,” said Don
Quixote, “I hereby for this once waive my privilege of gentle blood,
and come down and put myself on a level with the lowly birth of the
wrong-doer, making myself equal with him and enabling him to enter into
combat with me; and so, I challenge and defy him, though absent, on the
plea of his malfeasance in breaking faith with this poor damsel, who
was a maiden and now by his misdeed is none; and say that he shall
fulfill the promise he gave her to become her lawful husband, or else
stake his life upon the question.”

And then plucking off a glove he threw it down in the middle of the
hall, and the duke picked it up, saying, as he had said before, that he
accepted the challenge in the name of his vassal, and fixed six days
thence as the time, the courtyard of the castle as the place, and for
arms the customary ones of knights, lance and shield and full armour,
with all the other accessories, without trickery, guile, or charms of
any sort, and examined and passed by the judges of the field. “But
first of all,” he said, “it is requisite that this worthy duenna and
unworthy damsel should place their claim for justice in the hands of
Don Quixote; for otherwise nothing can be done, nor can the said
challenge be brought to a lawful issue.”

“I do so place it,” replied the duenna.

“And I too,” added her daughter, all in tears and covered with shame
and confusion.

This declaration having been made, and the duke having settled in his
own mind what he would do in the matter, the ladies in black withdrew,
and the duchess gave orders that for the future they were not to be
treated as servants of hers, but as lady adventurers who came to her
house to demand justice; so they gave them a room to themselves and
waited on them as they would on strangers, to the consternation of the
other women-servants, who did not know where the folly and imprudence
of Doña Rodriguez and her unlucky daughter would stop.

And now, to complete the enjoyment of the feast and bring the dinner to
a satisfactory end, lo and behold the page who had carried the letters
and presents to Teresa Panza, the wife of the governor Sancho, entered
the hall; and the duke and duchess were very well pleased to see him,
being anxious to know the result of his journey; but when they asked
him the page said in reply that he could not give it before so many
people or in a few words, and begged their excellences to be pleased to
let it wait for a private opportunity, and in the meantime amuse
themselves with these letters; and taking out the letters he placed
them in the duchess’s hand. One bore by way of address, Letter for my
lady the Duchess So-and-so, of I don’t know where; and the other To my
husband Sancho Panza, governor of the island of Barataria, whom God
prosper longer than me. The duchess’s bread would not bake, as the
saying is, until she had read her letter; and having looked over it
herself and seen that it might be read aloud for the duke and all
present to hear, she read out as follows.

TERESA PANZA’S LETTER TO THE DUCHESS.

The letter your highness wrote me, my lady, gave me great pleasure, for
indeed I found it very welcome. The string of coral beads is very fine,
and my husband’s hunting suit does not fall short of it. All this
village is very much pleased that your ladyship has made a governor of
my good man Sancho; though nobody will believe it, particularly the
curate, and Master Nicholas the barber, and the bachelor Samson
Carrasco; but I don’t care for that, for so long as it is true, as it
is, they may all say what they like; though, to tell the truth, if the
coral beads and the suit had not come I would not have believed it
either; for in this village everybody thinks my husband a numskull, and
except for governing a flock of goats, they cannot fancy what sort of
government he can be fit for. God grant it, and direct him according as
he sees his children stand in need of it. I am resolved with your
worship’s leave, lady of my soul, to make the most of this fair day,
and go to Court to stretch myself at ease in a coach, and make all
those I have envying me already burst their eyes out; so I beg your
excellence to order my husband to send me a small trifle of money, and
to let it be something to speak of, because one’s expenses are heavy at
the Court; for a loaf costs a real, and meat thirty maravedis a pound,
which is beyond everything; and if he does not want me to go let him
tell me in time, for my feet are on the fidgets to be off; and my
friends and neighbours tell me that if my daughter and I make a figure
and a brave show at Court, my husband will come to be known far more by
me than I by him, for of course plenty of people will ask, “Who are
those ladies in that coach?” and some servant of mine will answer, “The
wife and daughter of Sancho Panza, governor of the island of
Barataria;” and in this way Sancho will become known, and I’ll be
thought well of, and “to Rome for everything.” I am as vexed as vexed
can be that they have gathered no acorns this year in our village; for
all that I send your highness about half a peck that I went to the wood
to gather and pick out one by one myself, and I could find no bigger
ones; I wish they were as big as ostrich eggs.
Let not your high mightiness forget to write to me; and I will take
care to answer, and let you know how I am, and whatever news there
may be in this place, where I remain, praying our Lord to have your
highness in his keeping and not to forget me.
Sancha my daughter, and my son, kiss your worship’s hands.
She who would rather see your ladyship than write to you,

Your servant,
TERESA PANZA.

All were greatly amused by Teresa Panza’s letter, but particularly the
duke and duchess; and the duchess asked Don Quixote’s opinion whether
they might open the letter that had come for the governor, which she
suspected must be very good. Don Quixote said that to gratify them he
would open it, and did so, and found that it ran as follows.

TERESA PANZA’S LETTER TO HER HUSBAND SANCHO PANZA.

I got thy letter, Sancho of my soul, and I promise thee and swear as a
Catholic Christian that I was within two fingers’ breadth of going mad
I was so happy. I can tell thee, brother, when I came to hear that thou
wert a governor I thought I should have dropped dead with pure joy; and
thou knowest they say sudden joy kills as well as great sorrow; and as
for Sanchica thy daughter, she leaked from sheer happiness. I had
before me the suit thou didst send me, and the coral beads my lady the
duchess sent me round my neck, and the letters in my hands, and there
was the bearer of them standing by, and in spite of all this I verily
believed and thought that what I saw and handled was all a dream; for
who could have thought that a goatherd would come to be a governor of
islands? Thou knowest, my friend, what my mother used to say, that one
must live long to see much; I say it because I expect to see more if I
live longer; for I don’t expect to stop until I see thee a farmer of
taxes or a collector of revenue, which are offices where, though the
devil carries off those who make a bad use of them, still they make and
handle money. My lady the duchess will tell thee the desire I have to
go to the Court; consider the matter and let me know thy pleasure; I
will try to do honour to thee by going in a coach.
Neither the curate, nor the barber, nor the bachelor, nor even the
sacristan, can believe that thou art a governor, and they say the
whole thing is a delusion or an enchantment affair, like everything
belonging to thy master Don Quixote; and Samson says he must go in
search of thee and drive the government out of thy head and the
madness out of Don Quixote’s skull; I only laugh, and look at my
string of beads, and plan out the dress I am going to make for our
daughter out of thy suit. I sent some acorns to my lady the
duchess; I wish they had been gold. Send me some strings of pearls
if they are in fashion in that island. Here is the news of the
village; La Berrueca has married her daughter to a good-for-nothing
painter, who came here to paint anything that might turn up. The
council gave him an order to paint his Majesty’s arms over the door
of the town-hall; he asked two ducats, which they paid him in
advance; he worked for eight days, and at the end of them had
nothing painted, and then said he had no turn for painting such
trifling things; he returned the money, and for all that has
married on the pretence of being a good workman; to be sure he has
now laid aside his paint-brush and taken a spade in hand, and goes
to the field like a gentleman. Pedro Lobo’s son has received the
first orders and tonsure, with the intention of becoming a priest.
Minguilla, Mingo Silvato’s granddaughter, found it out, and has
gone to law with him on the score of having given her promise of
marriage. Evil tongues say she is with child by him, but he denies
it stoutly. There are no olives this year, and there is not a drop
of vinegar to be had in the whole village. A company of soldiers
passed through here; when they left they took away with them three
of the girls of the village; I will not tell thee who they are;
perhaps they will come back, and they will be sure to find those
who will take them for wives with all their blemishes, good or bad.
Sanchica is making bonelace; she earns eight maravedis a day clear,
which she puts into a moneybox as a help towards house furnishing;
but now that she is a governor’s daughter thou wilt give her a
portion without her working for it. The fountain in the plaza has
run dry. A flash of lightning struck the gibbet, and I wish they
all lit there. I look for an answer to this, and to know thy mind
about my going to the Court; and so, God keep thee longer than me,
or as long, for I would not leave thee in this world without me.

Thy wife,
TERESA PANZA.

The letters were applauded, laughed over, relished, and admired; and
then, as if to put the seal to the business, the courier arrived,
bringing the one Sancho sent to Don Quixote, and this, too, was read
out, and it raised some doubts as to the governor’s simplicity. The
duchess withdrew to hear from the page about his adventures in Sancho’s
village, which he narrated at full length without leaving a single
circumstance unmentioned. He gave her the acorns, and also a cheese
which Teresa had given him as being particularly good and superior to
those of Tronchon. The duchess received it with greatest delight, in
which we will leave her, to describe the end of the government of the
great Sancho Panza, flower and mirror of all governors of islands.

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