Chương Chương 42 · CHAPTER XLII. WHICH TREATS OF WHAT FURTHER TOOK PLACE IN THE INN, AND OF SEVERAL

. CHAPTER XLII. WHICH TREATS OF WHAT FURTHER TOOK PLACE IN THE INN, AND OF SEVERAL

CHAPTER XLII.

WHICH TREATS OF WHAT FURTHER TOOK PLACE IN THE INN, AND OF SEVERAL

OTHER THINGS WORTH KNOWING

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With these words the captive held his peace, and Don Fernando said to

him, “In truth, captain, the manner in which you have related this

remarkable adventure has been such as befitted the novelty and

strangeness of the matter. The whole story is curious and uncommon, and

abounds with incidents that fill the hearers with wonder and

astonishment; and so great is the pleasure we have found in listening

to it that we should be glad if it were to begin again, even though

to-morrow were to find us still occupied with the same tale.” And while

he said this Cardenio and the rest of them offered to be of service to

him in any way that lay in their power, and in words and language so

kindly and sincere that the captain was much gratified by their

good-will. In particular Don Fernando offered, if he would go back with

him, to get his brother the marquis to become godfather at the baptism

of Zoraida, and on his own part to provide him with the means of making

his appearance in his own country with the credit and comfort he was

entitled to. For all this the captive returned thanks very courteously,

although he would not accept any of their generous offers.

By this time night closed in, and as it did, there came up to the inn a

coach attended by some men on horseback, who demanded accommodation; to

which the landlady replied that there was not a hand’s breadth of the

whole inn unoccupied.

“Still, for all that,” said one of those who had entered on horseback,

“room must be found for his lordship the Judge here.”

At this name the landlady was taken aback, and said, “Señor, the fact

is I have no beds; but if his lordship the Judge carries one with him,

as no doubt he does, let him come in and welcome; for my husband and I

will give up our room to accommodate his worship.”

“Very good, so be it,” said the squire; but in the meantime a man had

got out of the coach whose dress indicated at a glance the office and

post he held, for the long robe with ruffled sleeves that he wore

showed that he was, as his servant said, a Judge of appeal. He led by

the hand a young girl in a travelling dress, apparently about sixteen

years of age, and of such a high-bred air, so beautiful and so

graceful, that all were filled with admiration when she made her

appearance, and but for having seen Dorothea, Luscinda, and Zoraida,

who were there in the inn, they would have fancied that a beauty like

that of this maiden’s would have been hard to find. Don Quixote was

present at the entrance of the Judge with the young lady, and as soon

as he saw him he said, “Your worship may with confidence enter and take

your ease in this castle; for though the accommodation be scanty and

poor, there are no quarters so cramped or inconvenient that they cannot

make room for arms and letters; above all if arms and letters have

beauty for a guide and leader, as letters represented by your worship

have in this fair maiden, to whom not only ought castles to throw

themselves open and yield themselves up, but rocks should rend

themselves asunder and mountains divide and bow themselves down to give

her a reception. Enter, your worship, I say, into this paradise, for

here you will find stars and suns to accompany the heaven your worship

brings with you, here you will find arms in their supreme excellence,

and beauty in its highest perfection.”

The Judge was struck with amazement at the language of Don Quixote,

whom he scrutinized very carefully, no less astonished by his figure

than by his talk; and before he could find words to answer him he had a

fresh surprise, when he saw opposite to him Luscinda, Dorothea, and

Zoraida, who, having heard of the new guests and of the beauty of the

young lady, had come to see her and welcome her; Don Fernando,

Cardenio, and the curate, however, greeted him in a more intelligible

and polished style. In short, the Judge made his entrance in a state of

bewilderment, as well with what he saw as what he heard, and the fair

ladies of the inn gave the fair damsel a cordial welcome. On the whole

he could perceive that all who were there were people of quality; but

with the figure, countenance, and bearing of Don Quixote he was at his

wits’ end; and all civilities having been exchanged, and the

accommodation of the inn inquired into, it was settled, as it had been

before settled, that all the women should retire to the garret that has

been already mentioned, and that the men should remain outside as if to

guard them; the Judge, therefore, was very well pleased to allow his

daughter, for such the damsel was, to go with the ladies, which she did

very willingly; and with part of the host’s narrow bed and half of what

the Judge had brought with him, they made a more comfortable

arrangement for the night than they had expected.

The captive, whose heart had leaped within him the instant he saw the

Judge, telling him somehow that this was his brother, asked one of the

servants who accompanied him what his name was, and whether he knew

from what part of the country he came. The servant replied that he was

called the Licentiate Juan Perez de Viedma, and that he had heard it

said he came from a village in the mountains of Leon. From this

statement, and what he himself had seen, he felt convinced that this

was his brother who had adopted letters by his father’s advice; and

excited and rejoiced, he called Don Fernando and Cardenio and the

curate aside, and told them how the matter stood, assuring them that

the judge was his brother. The servant had further informed him that he

was now going to the Indies with the appointment of Judge of the

Supreme Court of Mexico; and he had learned, likewise, that the young

lady was his daughter, whose mother had died in giving birth to her,

and that he was very rich in consequence of the dowry left to him with

the daughter. He asked their advice as to what means he should adopt to

make himself known, or to ascertain beforehand whether, when he had

made himself known, his brother, seeing him so poor, would be ashamed

of him, or would receive him with a warm heart.

“Leave it to me to find out that,” said the curate; “though there is no

reason for supposing, señor captain, that you will not be kindly

received, because the worth and wisdom that your brother’s bearing

shows him to possess do not make it likely that he will prove haughty

or insensible, or that he will not know how to estimate the accidents

of fortune at their proper value.”

“Still,” said the captain, “I would not make myself known abruptly, but

in some indirect way.”

“I have told you already,” said the curate, “that I will manage it in a

way to satisfy us all.”

By this time supper was ready, and they all took their seats at the

table, except the captive, and the ladies, who supped by themselves in

their own room. In the middle of supper the curate said:

“I had a comrade of your worship’s name, Señor Judge, in

Constantinople, where I was a captive for several years, and that same

comrade was one of the stoutest soldiers and captains in the whole

Spanish infantry; but he had as large a share of misfortune as he had

of gallantry and courage.”

“And how was the captain called, señor?” asked the Judge.

“He was called Ruy Perez de Viedma,” replied the curate, “and he was

born in a village in the mountains of Leon; and he mentioned a

circumstance connected with his father and his brothers which, had it

not been told me by so truthful a man as he was, I should have set down

as one of those fables the old women tell over the fire in winter; for

he said his father had divided his property among his three sons and

had addressed words of advice to them sounder than any of Cato’s. But I

can say this much, that the choice he made of going to the wars was

attended with such success, that by his gallant conduct and courage,

and without any help save his own merit, he rose in a few years to be

captain of infantry, and to see himself on the high-road and in

position to be given the command of a corps before long; but Fortune

was against him, for where he might have expected her favour he lost

it, and with it his liberty, on that glorious day when so many

recovered theirs, at the battle of Lepanto. I lost mine at the Goletta,

and after a variety of adventures we found ourselves comrades at

Constantinople. Thence he went to Algiers, where he met with one of the

most extraordinary adventures that ever befell anyone in the world.”

Here the curate went on to relate briefly his brother’s adventure with

Zoraida; to all which the Judge gave such an attentive hearing that he

never before had been so much of a hearer. The curate, however, only

went so far as to describe how the Frenchmen plundered those who were

in the boat, and the poverty and distress in which his comrade and the

fair Moor were left, of whom he said he had not been able to learn what

became of them, or whether they had reached Spain, or been carried to

France by the Frenchmen.

The captain, standing a little to one side, was listening to all the

curate said, and watching every movement of his brother, who, as soon

as he perceived the curate had made an end of his story, gave a deep

sigh and said with his eyes full of tears, “Oh, señor, if you only knew

what news you have given me and how it comes home to me, making me show

how I feel it with these tears that spring from my eyes in spite of all

my worldly wisdom and self-restraint! That brave captain that you speak

of is my eldest brother, who, being of a bolder and loftier mind than

my other brother or myself, chose the honourable and worthy calling of

arms, which was one of the three careers our father proposed to us, as

your comrade mentioned in that fable you thought he was telling you. I

followed that of letters, in which God and my own exertions have raised

me to the position in which you see me. My second brother is in Peru,

so wealthy that with what he has sent to my father and to me he has

fully repaid the portion he took with him, and has even furnished my

father’s hands with the means of gratifying his natural generosity,

while I too have been enabled to pursue my studies in a more becoming

and creditable fashion, and so to attain my present standing. My father

is still alive, though dying with anxiety to hear of his eldest son,

and he prays God unceasingly that death may not close his eyes until he

has looked upon those of his son; but with regard to him what surprises

me is, that having so much common sense as he had, he should have

neglected to give any intelligence about himself, either in his

troubles and sufferings, or in his prosperity, for if his father or any

of us had known of his condition he need not have waited for that

miracle of the reed to obtain his ransom; but what now disquiets me is

the uncertainty whether those Frenchmen may have restored him to

liberty, or murdered him to hide the robbery. All this will make me

continue my journey, not with the satisfaction in which I began it, but

in the deepest melancholy and sadness. Oh dear brother! that I only

knew where thou art now, and I would hasten to seek thee out and

deliver thee from thy sufferings, though it were to cost me suffering

myself! Oh that I could bring news to our old father that thou art

alive, even wert thou in the deepest dungeon of Barbary; for his wealth

and my brother’s and mine would rescue thee thence! Oh beautiful and

generous Zoraida, that I could repay thy goodness to a brother! That I

could be present at the new birth of thy soul, and at thy bridal that

would give us all such happiness!”

All this and more the Judge uttered with such deep emotion at the news

he had received of his brother that all who heard him shared in it,

showing their sympathy with his sorrow. The curate, seeing, then, how

well he had succeeded in carrying out his purpose and the captain’s

wishes, had no desire to keep them unhappy any longer, so he rose from

the table and going into the room where Zoraida was he took her by the

hand, Luscinda, Dorothea, and the Judge’s daughter following her. The

captain was waiting to see what the curate would do, when the latter,

taking him with the other hand, advanced with both of them to where the

Judge and the other gentlemen were and said, “Let your tears cease to

flow, Señor Judge, and the wish of your heart be gratified as fully as

you could desire, for you have before you your worthy brother and your

good sister-in-law. He whom you see here is the Captain Viedma, and

this is the fair Moor who has been so good to him. The Frenchmen I told

you of have reduced them to the state of poverty you see that you may

show the generosity of your kind heart.”

The captain ran to embrace his brother, who placed both hands on his

breast so as to have a good look at him, holding him a little way off

but as soon as he had fully recognised him he clasped him in his arms

so closely, shedding such tears of heartfelt joy, that most of those

present could not but join in them. The words the brothers exchanged,

the emotion they showed can scarcely be imagined, I fancy, much less

put down in writing. They told each other in a few words the events of

their lives; they showed the true affection of brothers in all its

strength; then the judge embraced Zoraida, putting all he possessed at

her disposal; then he made his daughter embrace her, and the fair

Christian and the lovely Moor drew fresh tears from every eye. And

there was Don Quixote observing all these strange proceedings

attentively without uttering a word, and attributing the whole to

chimeras of knight-errantry. Then they agreed that the captain and

Zoraida should return with his brother to Seville, and send news to his

father of his having been delivered and found, so as to enable him to

come and be present at the marriage and baptism of Zoraida, for it was

impossible for the Judge to put off his journey, as he was informed

that in a month from that time the fleet was to sail from Seville for

New Spain, and to miss the passage would have been a great

inconvenience to him. In short, everybody was well pleased and glad at

the captive’s good fortune; and as now almost two-thirds of the night

were past, they resolved to retire to rest for the remainder of it. Don

Quixote offered to mount guard over the castle lest they should be

attacked by some giant or other malevolent scoundrel, covetous of the

great treasure of beauty the castle contained. Those who understood him

returned him thanks for this service, and they gave the Judge an

account of his extraordinary humour, with which he was not a little

amused. Sancho Panza alone was fuming at the lateness of the hour for

retiring to rest; and he of all was the one that made himself most

comfortable, as he stretched himself on the trappings of his ass,

which, as will be told farther on, cost him so dear.

The ladies, then, having retired to their chamber, and the others

having disposed themselves with as little discomfort as they could, Don

Quixote sallied out of the inn to act as sentinel of the castle as he

had promised. It happened, however, that a little before the approach

of dawn a voice so musical and sweet reached the ears of the ladies

that it forced them all to listen attentively, but especially Dorothea,

who had been awake, and by whose side Doña Clara de Viedma, for so the

Judge’s daughter was called, lay sleeping. No one could imagine who it

was that sang so sweetly, and the voice was unaccompanied by any

instrument. At one moment it seemed to them as if the singer were in

the courtyard, at another in the stable; and as they were all

attention, wondering, Cardenio came to the door and said, “Listen,

whoever is not asleep, and you will hear a muleteer’s voice that

enchants as it chants.”

“We are listening to it already, señor,” said Dorothea; on which

Cardenio went away; and Dorothea, giving all her attention to it, made

out the words of the song to be these:

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