Chap. IX An Account of Other Strange Adventures That Happened at the Inn
At that instant the landlord, standing at the inn-door, exclaimed, ‘There is a noble company: odd! if they halt here, we shall sing for joy.’—‘What company?’ said Cardenio. ‘Four men,’ replied the inn-keeper, ‘who ride with short stirrups, each of them equipped with lance, target, and mask, with a lady on a side-saddle, dressed in white and veiled, and two attendants on foot.’ When the priest asked if they were near, he answered, ‘So near, that they are already at the gate.’
Dorothea hearing this information, put on her veil, and Cardenio withdrew into Don Quixote’s apartment. Immediately the whole company announced by the landlord, entered the inn-yard; and the four horsemen, who were persons of genteel mien and carriage, instantly alighting, went to help the lady from her horse, when one of them taking her in his arms, placed her in a chair that stood by the door of the room in which Cardenio had concealed himself. All this time neither she nor they took off their masks, nor uttered one syllable; but when she was seated, she heaved a profound sigh, and let her arms fall down on each side, like a person fainting with weakness. While the footman led the horses into the stable, the curate being curious to know who those persons were, so remarkable in their silence and dress, went up and put the question to one of the lacquies, who answered, ‘Truly, Signior, we are as ignorant in that particular as you are; though they seem to be people of condition, especially he who took the lady in his arms, because all the rest behave to him with great respect, following his directions in every thing with the utmost punctuality.’—’And, pray, who may the lady be?’ said the priest. ‘We know as little of her as of the man,’ replied the lacquey; ‘for during the journey I have never once beheld her face; I have often heard her sigh bitterly, and utter piercing groans, in every one of which she seemed to yield her very soul; but it is not to be wondered at that we should know so little of their affairs, my companion and I having attended them two days only; for, meeting us on the road, they intreated and persuaded us to accompany them as far as Andalusia, promising to pay us handsomely for our trouble.’—‘Have you never heard one of them named?’ resumed the curate. ‘Never once,’ answered the young man; ‘they travel with surprizing silence; nothing is heard but the sobs and sighs of the poor lady, which move us to compassion; we firmly believe that she is forced upon this journey, and gather from her dress that she is a nun; or, which is more probable, going to take the veil; and finding herself very little inclined to that way of life, is melancholy at the prospect.’
The curate said, nothing was more probable; and leaving the lacquey, returned to Dorothea, who by this time, out of natural sympathy with the affliction of the masked lady, had approached and accosted her in these words: ‘What is the matter with you, dear Madam? If you labour under any indisposition which the practice and experience of women can relieve, my assistance is heartily at your service.’ To this kind offer no reply was made by the sorrowful lady, who, notwithstanding the other’s repeated intreaties, would not open her mouth; until the person who by the lacquey’s information was chief of the company, addressing himself to Dorothea, said, ‘Do not fatigue yourself, Madam, in making proffers of service to that woman, who cannot be grateful for any favour she receives; nor importune her for any reply, unless you desire to hear some falshoods proceed from her lips.’—‘My lips,’ said the hitherto silent lady, ‘were never profaned with falshood; on the contrary, my present misfortune is owing to my sincerity and my abhorrence of lyes. Of this assertion you yourself are too sensible; since your own perfidy and falshood are the effects of my constancy and truth.’
These words were distinctly overheard by Cardenio, who was only separated from them by the door of Don Quixote’s chamber; and they no sooner reached his ear, than he cried aloud, ‘Good Heaven, what do I hear! What voice is that which struck my sense!’ The lady being exceedingly surprized at that exclamation, turned about her head, and not seeing the person that pronounced it, started up, and ran towards the apartment from whence it seemed to come; but was prevented by her conductor, who would not suffer her to move one step farther. In the disorder occasioned by her struggle, her mask dropped off, and discovered a countenance of incomparable and amazing beauty, even though disguised with paleness and horror; for her eyes rolled about to every corner which her sight could reach, with such eagerness and wildness, that she looked like a woman possessed.
Dorothea, and all present, were infinitely concerned at these symptoms, the meaning of which they could not understand; meanwhile, the cavalier was so busied in holding her fast by the shoulders, that he could not attend to his mask, which also fell to the ground: and Dorothea lifting up her eyes towards him, as he held the lady in his arms, perceived that this cavalier was no other than her own husband, Don Fernando. No sooner did she recognize his features, than fetching a long and melancholy sigh from the very bottom of her soul, she fell backward in a swoon; and if the barber had not been at hand to support her, would have certainly come to the ground. The curate ran instantly to take off her veil, that he might sprinkle water on her face, which was immediately known by Don Fernando, who held the other lady in his arms, and was thunderstruck at the sight: he would not, however, quit Lucinda, who struggled to get loose; she and Cardenio having by this time recognized each other by their mutual exclamations. He had also overheard the groan uttered by Dorothea when she fainted; and believing that it proceeded from Lucinda, rushed out of his apartment in a fright, when the first object he beheld was Don Fernando clasping her in his arms. This nobleman knew him immediately; and all three (namely, Lucinda, Cardenio, and Dorothea) were struck dumb with astonishment, and seemed insensible of what had happened, gazing in silence at one another.
Dorothea directed her eager view to Don Fernando, who stared at Cardenio, whose eyes were fixed upon Lucinda, who looked wishfully at him; but the first that broke silence, was this last, who addressed herself in these words to Don Fernando: ‘Suffer me, Signior, in regard to your own character, since you are deaf to every other consideration, to cleave to that wall of which I am the ivy, to avail myself of that prop from which you could not disengage me, with all your importunities, promises, and threats. Behold how Heaven, by unusual and mysterious means, hath brought me to my true and lawful husband; and since you know, by dear-bought experience, that nothing but death can expel his image from my breast, let this plain demonstration, since all other attempts are vain, convert your love into rage, your friendship into hate, and instantly deprive me of life, which I shall yield with pleasure in the presence of my legal lord, who will then perhaps be convinced of the fidelity I preserved to the last moment of my existence.’
In the mean time, Dorothea being recovered from her swoon, had listened to Lucinda’s declaration, by which she discovered her situation and name; but perceiving that Don Fernando neither quitted his hold, nor answered one word to her solicitation, she exerted her whole strength in falling down on her knees before him, and having shed a large quantity of tears from her beautiful eyes, accosted him in these words: ‘My dear lord! if your eyes were not dazzled and obscured by the rays of that sun which you hold eclipsed within your arms, you would perceive that she who thus kneels before you, is the unhappy (so long as you are pleased she should be so) and forlorn Dorothea—I am that humble country maiden whom your generosity or passion vouchsafed to raise to the honour of calling you her own. I am she who, confined within the bounds of modesty, lived a contented life, until moved by your importunities, and seemingly upright addresses, she opened the gates of her reserve, and surrendered to you the keys of her freedom. An offering but ill requited, as plainly appears by that hard fate, in consequence of which I am found in this place, and also find you in your present situation. Nevertheless, I would not have you imagine that I came hither, induced by any dishonourable motives; but that the sorrow conceived at seeing myself forsaken and forgotten by you, was the sole cause of my retreat. You desired I should be your own; and that desire you accomplished so effectually, that although your inclinations may be changed, it is impossible you should cease to be mine. Consider, my lord, that my unparalleled affection may counterbalance the beauty and birth of her for whom I am abandoned; you cannot be the fair Lucinda’s husband, because you are already mine; nor she become your wife, while she appertains to Cardenio; and it will be a much easier task, if you reflect upon it impartially, to recal your love for her who adores you, than to gain the affection of one by whom you are abhorred. You solicited my unsuspecting heart, you importuned my integrity, you was not ignorant of my lowly station, and know in what manner I yielded to your will; so that you have no subterfuge, nor the least room to say you was deceived. If this be the case, as doubtless it is, and you be a Christian as well as a gentleman, why do you, by such evasions, delay to make the end as happy as the beginning of my fortune? If you will not receive me as what I really am, your lawful wife, at least admit me into the number of your slaves; for, in whatever shape I belong to you, I shall account myself fortunate and blessed; do not, therefore, by renouncing me entirely, give scandal an opportunity of impeaching my honour. Make not my parents miserable in their old age; their faithful services to your father merit a more kind return! if you think your blood will be debased in mixing with mine, consider, that almost all the great families on earth have undergone the same intercourse, and that the woman’s quality in no manner affects illustrious descents: besides, true nobility consists in virtue; and in that shall I have the advantage over you, if you deny and oppose the justice of my claim. In fine, the last argument I shall use is this, whether you are pleased or displeased with your destiny, I am your lawful wife: witness your own words, which neither are nor ought to be false; if you value yourself on that for which you undervalue me; witness your handwriting, and Heaven above, to the testimony of which you appealed for the performance of your promise; and if all these should fail, your conscience will never cease whispering to you, amidst your pleasures, in vindication of this truth, which will disturb your most exalted enjoyments.’
This supplication, enforced with other arguments, was pronounced so feelingly by the afflicted and weeping Dorothea, that tears of sympathy were shed by all present, the companions of Don Fernando not excepted; he himself listened without answering one word, until she had made an end of her address, and began to utter such woeful sighs and groans, as were almost sufficient to melt an heart of brass. Lucinda stood gazing upon her with equal compassion for her sorrow, and admiration of her beauty and good sense; nay, she would have gone and offered her all the consolation in her power, had she not still been kept fast locked in the arms of Don Fernando; who, full of confusion and surprize, after having for a good while fixed his eyes upon Dorothea, with great attention, opened his arms, and leaving Lucinda at liberty, said, ‘You have conquered, beauteous Dorothea: the victory is yours; for so many truths conjoined are surely irresistible.’
Lucinda was so faint and weak, that when Don Fernando quitted her, she would have fallen to the ground, had it not been for Cardenio, who had placed himself behind her ravisher, that he might not be known95; but now, laying aside all fear, and resolving to adventure every thing, he sprung to the assistance of Lucinda, and catching her in his arms, ‘If,’ said he, ‘it be the will and pleasure of pitying Heaven, that you should find repose, my faithful, constant, and charming Lucinda! I think you can enjoy it no where so securely, as in these arms, which now receive, and formerly encircled you, when fortune was pleased that I should call you mine.’
At these words, she gazed upon him with great eagerness; she had before began to recognize his voice, and now, recollecting his features, like a person deprived of judgment, who disregards all decency and form, she threw her arms about his neck, and joining her lips to his, ‘Yes, my dear Cardenio,’ said she, ‘you are the real lord of this your slave, in spite of adverse fate, and all those threats, though greater than they are, that persecute my life, which now depends on yours alone.’
An unexpected sight was this to Don Fernando, and all the bye-standers, who were not a little surprized at what they saw. While Dorothea observing her husband change colour, and signify an inclination of being revenged upon Cardenio, by laying his hand upon his sword, ran, with incredible agility, and clasping his knees, which she kissed, held him so firmly embraced, that he could not move, saying, while the tears trickled from her eyes, ‘What means my only refuge to do on this unexpected occasion? Your own wife is now kneeling before you, and she whom you desire to wed is in the arms of her lawful husband; consider whether it be just or possible for you to undo that which Heaven hath done; why should you seek to unite yourself with one, who disdaining all opposition and inconvenience, and confirmed in her own constancy and truth, even before your eyes, lets fall from hers a shower of tenderness into the bosom of her lawful spouse? For the sake of God and of yourself, I entreat and beseech you, that this remarkable recognition may not only fail to increase your indignation, but even diminish it in such a manner, that these two lovers may, without any impediment from you, enjoy each other as long as Heaven will permit them to live. In this self-denial you will manifest the generosity of your noble and illustrious soul, and convince the world, that you are governed more by reason than by appetite.’
While Dorothea pronounced these words, Cardenio, though he held Lucinda in his arms, kept his eyes still fixed upon Don Fernando, with full resolution, if he attempted any thing to his prejudice, to defend himself as well as he could, against his adversary and all his adherents, although it should cost him his life; but this young nobleman’s friends, together with the curate and barber, not forgetting honest Sancho Panza, who were present at the whole affair, interposed, and making a circle about him, begged earnestly that he would be pleased to consider the tears of Dorothea; and if what she alledged was true, as they firmly believed it was, no longer suffer her to be defrauded of her just and reasonable hope. They desired him to observe, that in all appearance it was not by accident, but the immediate direction of Providence, that they had all met together so unexpectedly in this place; and the curate intreated him to reflect, that death alone could divide Lucinda from Cardenio; that though they might be parted by the edge of the sword, they would look, upon death as the greatest blessing that could befal them, and that, in a case of this kind, which admitted of no other remedy, it would be his wisest course to constrain and conquer his own passion, and demonstrate the generosity of his heart, by permitting, of his own free-will, these two lovers to enjoy that state of happiness which heaven had ordained for their lot; that he should contemplate Dorothea’s beauty, which, far from being excelled, was equalled in few or none; and to her beauty, add the consideration of her humility and excessive love; above all, take notice, that if he valued himself upon being a gentleman and a Christian, he could do no less than perform the promise he had given, and in so doing, act in conformity to the will of God, and satisfy the discreet part of mankind, who are very sensible that it is the prerogative of beauty, even in a low estate, when accompanied with virtue, to be lifted up to the highest rank, without any disparagement to the person who thus raises it to an equality with himself; and since the irresistible force of inclination must prevail, provided there be nothing criminal in the means, he is not to be blamed who acts according to its dictates.
To these arguments were added so many of the same sort, that the valiant heart of Don Fernando, nourished by illustrious blood, relented, and he was overcome by the force of that truth, which, however inclined, he could not deny. The signal of his surrender, and yielding to this reasonable and just proposal, was his stooping down and embracing Dorothea: to whom he said, ‘Rise, Madam; it is not just that she who reigns in my soul, should lie prostrate at my feet. If hitherto I have given small proof of what I now profess, perhaps my omission hath been owing to the appointment of Heaven, that by giving you an opportunity of manifesting the sincerity of your love, I might know how to esteem you according to your deserts. I beg, therefore, you will not upbraid me with my misconduct and unkind neglect; since the same force and occasion that attached me to you, was the cause of my endeavour to disengage myself. That you may be convinced of the truth, behold and contemplate the eyes of the now contented Lucinda, in which you will find an excuse for all my errors; and, since she hath found and attained her heart’s desire, and my utmost wish is fulfilled in thus retrieving you, may she live in peace and quiet, for many happy years, with her Cardenio, and may Heaven grant the same felicity to me with Dorothea!’
So saying, he embraced her again, pressing his lips to her’s with such tenderness, that it required his greatest efforts to forbear giving, with his tears, indubitable signs of his affection and remorse. But those endeavours did not succeed with Lucinda, Cardenio, and every other person present, who began to weep so plentifully, either at their own happiness, or the satisfaction of their friends, that one would have thought some grievous misfortune had happened to the whole company. Even Sancho blubbered, though he afterwards owned, that his sorrow proceeded from seeing that Dorothea was not, as he imagined, the Queen of Micomicon, from whom he expelled such favours.
This universal admiration and thaw having lasted some time, Cardenio and Lucinda fell upon their knees before Don Fernando, whom they thanked for his generosity in such polite terms, that he scarce knew what answer to make, but raised and embraced them both with demonstrations of uncommon courtesy and affection. Then asking Dorothea how she had come to that place, so distant from her own home, she with great elegance and brevity repeated what she had before recounted to Cardenio; and her husband and his company were so pleased with her narration, that they wished it could have been spun out to a much greater length; so gracefully did she relate her own misfortunes.
Her talk being finished, Don Fernando informed them of what had happened to him in the city, after he found, in Lucinda’s bosom, the paper in which she declared herself Cardenio’s wife. Seeing that she could not possibly be his, he said, he was determined to put her to death, and would actually have executed his purpose, had not her parents interposed. He then quitted the house, full of shame and resentment, resolving to revenge himself with the first opportunity; and next day understood that she was gone off, without any body’s knowing whither she had directed her flight. At length, however, in a few months, he got notice that she was in a certain monastery, where she intended to spend her whole life, if she could not enjoy it in the company of Cardenio. He no sooner received this intimation, than chusing these three gentlemen for his companions, he went straight to the place of her residence; but without speaking to her, or making himself known, lest the monastery should be more strictly guarded on his account. He waited, therefore, until one day he found the porter’s lodge open; when leaving two of his friends to secure the door, he entered the monastery with the other, in quest of Lucinda, whom he found in the cloisters, talking with a nun; and snatching her off, without giving her a moment’s time for recollection, carried her instantly to a place where they provided themselves with necessaries for their journey. This exploit they were enabled to perform with safety, because the monastery stood in the middle of a field, at a good distance from any village or town. He said, Lucinda no sooner perceived herself in his power, than she fainted away; and when she recovered the use of her senses, did nothing but weep and sigh, without speaking one word: so that, accompanied with silence and tears, they had arrived at that inn, which he looked upon as the heavenly goal where all earthly misfortunes are happily terminated.