บทที่ บทที่ 88 · CHAPTER XXXVI. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE AND UNDREAMT-OF ADVENTURE OF THE

. CHAPTER XXXVI. WHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE AND UNDREAMT-OF ADVENTURE OF THE

CHAPTER XXXVI.

WHEREIN IS RELATED THE STRANGE AND UNDREAMT-OF ADVENTURE OF THE

DISTRESSED DUENNA, ALIAS THE COUNTESS TRIFALDI, TOGETHER WITH A LETTER

WHICH SANCHO PANZA WROTE TO HIS WIFE, TERESA PANZA

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The duke had a majordomo of a very facetious and sportive turn, and he

it was that played the part of Merlin, made all the arrangements for

the late adventure, composed the verses, and got a page to represent

Dulcinea; and now, with the assistance of his master and mistress, he

got up another of the drollest and strangest contrivances that can be

imagined.

The duchess asked Sancho the next day if he had made a beginning with

his penance task which he had to perform for the disenchantment of

Dulcinea. He said he had, and had given himself five lashes overnight.

The duchess asked him what he had given them with.

He said with his hand.

“That,” said the duchess, “is more like giving oneself slaps than

lashes; I am sure the sage Merlin will not be satisfied with such

tenderness; worthy Sancho must make a scourge with claws, or a

cat-o’-nine tails, that will make itself felt; for it’s with blood that

letters enter, and the release of so great a lady as Dulcinea will not

be granted so cheaply, or at such a paltry price; and remember, Sancho,

that works of charity done in a lukewarm and half-hearted way are

without merit and of no avail.”

To which Sancho replied, “If your ladyship will give me a proper

scourge or cord, I’ll lay on with it, provided it does not hurt too

much; for you must know, boor as I am, my flesh is more cotton than

hemp, and it won’t do for me to destroy myself for the good of anybody

else.”

“So be it by all means,” said the duchess; “to-morrow I’ll give you a

scourge that will be just the thing for you, and will accommodate

itself to the tenderness of your flesh, as if it was its own sister.”

Then said Sancho, “Your highness must know, dear lady of my soul, that

I have a letter written to my wife, Teresa Panza, giving her an account

of all that has happened me since I left her; I have it here in my

bosom, and there’s nothing wanting but to put the address to it; I’d be

glad if your discretion would read it, for I think it runs in the

governor style; I mean the way governors ought to write.”

“And who dictated it?” asked the duchess.

“Who should have dictated but myself, sinner as I am?” said Sancho.

“And did you write it yourself?” said the duchess.

“That I didn’t,” said Sancho; “for I can neither read nor write, though

I can sign my name.”

“Let us see it,” said the duchess, “for never fear but you display in

it the quality and quantity of your wit.”

Sancho drew out an open letter from his bosom, and the duchess, taking

it, found it ran in this fashion:

SANCHO PANZA’S LETTER TO HIS WIFE, TERESA PANZA

If I was well whipped I went mounted like a gentleman; if I have got a

good government it is at the cost of a good whipping. Thou wilt not

understand this just now, my Teresa; by-and-by thou wilt know what it

means. I may tell thee, Teresa, I mean thee to go in a coach, for that

is a matter of importance, because every other way of going is going on

all-fours. Thou art a governor’s wife; take care that nobody speaks

evil of thee behind thy back. I send thee here a green hunting suit

that my lady the duchess gave me; alter it so as to make a petticoat

and bodice for our daughter. Don Quixote, my master, if I am to believe

what I hear in these parts, is a madman of some sense, and a droll

blockhead, and I am in no way behind him. We have been in the cave of

Montesinos, and the sage Merlin has laid hold of me for the

disenchantment of Dulcinea del Toboso, her that is called Aldonza

Lorenzo over there. With three thousand three hundred lashes, less

five, that I’m to give myself, she will be left as entirely

disenchanted as the mother that bore her. Say nothing of this to

anyone; for, make thy affairs public, and some will say they are white

and others will say they are black. I shall leave this in a few days

for my government, to which I am going with a mighty great desire to

make money, for they tell me all new governors set out with the same

desire; I will feel the pulse of it and will let thee know if thou art

to come and live with me or not. Dapple is well and sends many

remembrances to thee; I am not going to leave him behind though they

took me away to be Grand Turk. My lady the duchess kisses thy hands a

thousand times; do thou make a return with two thousand, for as my

master says, nothing costs less or is cheaper than civility. God has

not been pleased to provide another valise for me with another hundred

crowns, like the one the other day; but never mind, my Teresa, the

bell-ringer is in safe quarters, and all will come out in the scouring

of the government; only it troubles me greatly what they tell me—that

once I have tasted it I will eat my hands off after it; and if that is

so it will not come very cheap to me; though to be sure the maimed have

a benefice of their own in the alms they beg for; so that one way or

another thou wilt be rich and in luck. God give it to thee as he can,

and keep me to serve thee. From this castle, the 20th of July, 1614.

Thy husband, the governor,

SANCHO PANZA

When she had done reading the letter the duchess said to Sancho, “On

two points the worthy governor goes rather astray; one is in saying or

hinting that this government has been bestowed upon him for the lashes

that he is to give himself, when he knows (and he cannot deny it) that

when my lord the duke promised it to him nobody ever dreamt of such a

thing as lashes; the other is that he shows himself here to be very

covetous; and I would not have him a money-seeker, for ‘covetousness

bursts the bag,’ and the covetous governor does ungoverned justice.”

“I don’t mean it that way, señora,” said Sancho; “and if you think the

letter doesn’t run as it ought to do, it’s only to tear it up and make

another; and maybe it will be a worse one if it is left to my

gumption.”

“No, no,” said the duchess, “this one will do, and I wish the duke to

see it.”

With this they betook themselves to a garden where they were to dine,

and the duchess showed Sancho’s letter to the duke, who was highly

delighted with it. They dined, and after the cloth had been removed and

they had amused themselves for a while with Sancho’s rich conversation,

the melancholy sound of a fife and harsh discordant drum made itself

heard. All seemed somewhat put out by this dull, confused, martial

harmony, especially Don Quixote, who could not keep his seat from pure

disquietude; as to Sancho, it is needless to say that fear drove him to

his usual refuge, the side or the skirts of the duchess; and indeed and

in truth the sound they heard was a most doleful and melancholy one.

While they were still in uncertainty they saw advancing towards them

through the garden two men clad in mourning robes so long and flowing

that they trailed upon the ground. As they marched they beat two great

drums which were likewise draped in black, and beside them came the

fife player, black and sombre like the others. Following these came a

personage of gigantic stature enveloped rather than clad in a gown of

the deepest black, the skirt of which was of prodigious dimensions.

Over the gown, girdling or crossing his figure, he had a broad baldric

which was also black, and from which hung a huge scimitar with a black

scabbard and furniture. He had his face covered with a transparent

black veil, through which might be descried a very long beard as white

as snow. He came on keeping step to the sound of the drums with great

gravity and dignity; and, in short, his stature, his gait, the

sombreness of his appearance and his following might well have struck

with astonishment, as they did, all who beheld him without knowing who

he was. With this measured pace and in this guise he advanced to kneel

before the duke, who, with the others, awaited him standing. The duke,

however, would not on any account allow him to speak until he had

risen. The prodigious scarecrow obeyed, and standing up, removed the

veil from his face and disclosed the most enormous, the longest, the

whitest and the thickest beard that human eyes had ever beheld until

that moment, and then fetching up a grave, sonorous voice from the

depths of his broad, capacious chest, and fixing his eyes on the duke,

he said:

“Most high and mighty señor, my name is Trifaldin of the White Beard; I

am squire to the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise called the Distressed

Duenna, on whose behalf I bear a message to your highness, which is

that your magnificence will be pleased to grant her leave and

permission to come and tell you her trouble, which is one of the

strangest and most wonderful that the mind most familiar with trouble

in the world could have imagined; but first she desires to know if the

valiant and never vanquished knight, Don Quixote of La Mancha, is in

this your castle, for she has come in quest of him on foot and without

breaking her fast from the kingdom of Kandy to your realms here; a

thing which may and ought to be regarded as a miracle or set down to

enchantment; she is even now at the gate of this fortress or plaisance,

and only waits for your permission to enter. I have spoken.” And with

that he coughed, and stroked down his beard with both his hands, and

stood very tranquilly waiting for the response of the duke, which was

to this effect: “Many days ago, worthy squire Trifaldin of the White

Beard, we heard of the misfortune of my lady the Countess Trifaldi,

whom the enchanters have caused to be called the Distressed Duenna. Bid

her enter, O stupendous squire, and tell her that the valiant knight

Don Quixote of La Mancha is here, and from his generous disposition she

may safely promise herself every protection and assistance; and you may

tell her, too, that if my aid be necessary it will not be withheld, for

I am bound to give it to her by my quality of knight, which involves

the protection of women of all sorts, especially widowed, wronged, and

distressed dames, such as her ladyship seems to be.”

On hearing this Trifaldin bent the knee to the ground, and making a

sign to the fifer and drummers to strike up, he turned and marched out

of the garden to the same notes and at the same pace as when he

entered, leaving them all amazed at his bearing and solemnity. Turning

to Don Quixote, the duke said, “After all, renowned knight, the mists

of malice and ignorance are unable to hide or obscure the light of

valour and virtue. I say so, because your excellence has been barely

six days in this castle, and already the unhappy and the afflicted come

in quest of you from lands far distant and remote, and not in coaches

or on dromedaries, but on foot and fasting, confident that in that

mighty arm they will find a cure for their sorrows and troubles; thanks

to your great achievements, which are circulated all over the known

earth.”

“I wish, señor duke,” replied Don Quixote, “that blessed ecclesiastic,

who at table the other day showed such ill-will and bitter spite

against knights-errant, were here now to see with his own eyes whether

knights of the sort are needed in the world; he would at any rate learn

by experience that those suffering any extraordinary affliction or

sorrow, in extreme cases and unusual misfortunes do not go to look for

a remedy to the houses of jurists or village sacristans, or to the

knight who has never attempted to pass the bounds of his own town, or

to the indolent courtier who only seeks for news to repeat and talk of,

instead of striving to do deeds and exploits for others to relate and

record. Relief in distress, help in need, protection for damsels,

consolation for widows, are to be found in no sort of persons better

than in knights-errant; and I give unceasing thanks to heaven that I am

one, and regard any misfortune or suffering that may befall me in the

pursuit of so honourable a calling as endured to good purpose. Let this

duenna come and ask what she will, for I will effect her relief by the

might of my arm and the dauntless resolution of my bold heart.”

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