Chap. IX Which Contains What You Will See in the Perusal of It
It was midnight, or thereabout, when Don Quixote and Sancho, leaving their covert, entered the city of Toboso, which was then in profound silence, all its inhabitants being asleep, and lying with outstretched legs, as the saying is. The night was clear, though Sancho wished it otherwise, that in the darkness he might find an excuse for his imposition; and nothing was heard in the whole town but the barking of dogs, which thundered in Don Quixote’s ears, and very much disturbed the heart of Sancho; yet, from time to time, they were saluted by the braying of asses, the grunting of hogs, and the mewing of cats; which different notes being augmented by the stillness of the night, were considered as ill omens by the enamoured knight, who nevertheless said to his squire, ‘Son Sancho, lead on to the palace of Dulcinea, whom, perhaps, we shall find awake.’—‘Body of the sun!’ cried Sancho, ‘what palace should I lead to? when I saw her highness she was in a very small cottage.’—‘Then she must have been retired,’ answered the knight, ‘to some small apartment of her castle, to divert herself with her damsels, according to the use and custom of princesses and ladies of rank.’—‘Signior,’ said the squire, ‘since your worship, in spite of all that I can say, will have my Lady Dulcinea’s house to be a castle, is this an hour to find the gate open? and will it be decent for us to throw the whole family into confusion and uproar, by making a racket, and demanding entrance, at this time of night? Do you think we are going to a bawdy-house, like your fornicators, who rap and knock, and enter at any hour of the four and twenty?’—‘First of all, let us fairly find the castle,’ replied the knight, ’and then I will tell thee what is to be done; and take notice, Sancho, for either mine eye-sight fails me, or that great shadowy building before us is the palace of Dulcinea.’—‘Advance, then,’ answered Sancho, ‘perhaps it may be so; and yet, though I should see it with mine eyes, and touch it with my hands, I will believe it as much as I believe it is now twelve o’clock at noon.’
Don Quixote, however, proceeded; and having gone about two hundred paces, came up with the building that produced the shadow, and perceiving it an high steeple, found it was no castle, but in reality the principal church in town. ‘We are arrived at the cathedral, Sancho,’ said he. ‘So I perceive,’ replied the squire, ‘and God grant we be not arrived at our graves! for it is no good sign to be strolling about church-yards at these hours: besides, I have already told your worship, (if my memory serves me right) that my lady’s house stands in a blind alley.’—‘The curse of God light on thee, for a blockhead as thou art!’ cried Don Quixote; ‘where didst thou ever hear of castles and royal palaces, built in blind alleys?’—‘Signior,’ answered Sancho, ‘every country has its own customs; and perhaps it is the custom here, in Toboso, to raise palaces and grand edifices in blind alleys; I therefore humbly beseech your worship to let me search all the streets and alleys I shall meet with; and who knows but in some corner I may light on this same castle, which I wish the dogs had devoured, before it had brought us to such perplexity and confusion?’—‘Talk respectfully, Sancho, of those things that appertain to my mistress,’ said the knight; ‘let us spend our holiday in peace, and not throw the helve after the hatchet.’—‘Well, I will be pacified,’ answered the squire; ‘though how can I endure your worship should expect that I who have seen my lady’s house but once, should know it always, and even find it out in the middle of the night, when you yourself are at a loss, though you must have seen it a thousand times?’—‘You distract me, Sancho,’ cried Don Quixote; ‘heark ye, heretick, have not I told you a thousand times, that in all the days of my life, I never saw the peerless Dulcinea, nor ever crossed the threshold of her palace, being only enamoured by hearsay, and the great reputation of her beauty and discretion?’—‘I hear your worship say so now,’ replied Sancho; ’and tell you in my turn, that if you have not seen her, no more have I.’—‘That is impossible,’ resumed the knight; ‘at least, you told me you had seen her winnowing wheat, when you brought back an answer to the letter with which I sent you to her habitation.’—‘Truly, Signior, you must not depend upon that,’ answered Sancho; ‘for you must know, my seeing her, and bringing back the answer, was also upon hearsay; and I am as incapable of giving any account of the Lady Dulcinea, as I am of pulling the moon by the nose.’ ‘Sancho! Sancho!’ said Don Quixote, ‘there is a time for jesting, and a time when jokes are very unseasonable; though I say I have never seen or spoke with the mistress of my soul, there is no reason for thy making the same declaration, which thou knowest is so contrary to the truth.’
While they thus conversed together, they perceived a person passing that way with a couple of mules; and by the noise of a plough-share, which they dragged along, justly concluded that he was a peasant who had risen before day to go to labour: they were not mistaken; it was actually a labourer, who went along singing the ballad of Ronscevalles149; which the knight no sooner heard, than he exclaimed, ‘Let me die, Sancho! if any thing lucky will befal us to-night; don’t you hear what that peasant is singing?’—‘Yes,’ said Sancho; ‘but what has the defeat at Ronscevalles to do with our affair? If he had sung the ballad of Calaynos, it would have been the same thing with regard to our good or evil fortune.’
Don Quixote said to the peasant, who was by this time come-up, ‘Can you tell me, honest friend, and the blessing of God attend you, in what part of this city stands the palace of the peerless princess Donna Dulcinea del Toboso?’—‘Signor,’ answered the young man, ‘I am a stranger, and have been but a few days in town, in the service of a rich farmer, whose lands I till; but in that house that fronts you live the curate and sexton of the parish, and either or both can give your worship an account of that same princess, for they keep a register of all the inhabitants of Toboso, though I believe, there is no such thing as a princess in the whole place: there are, indeed, many ladies of fashion, and every one may be a princess in her own house.’—‘She whom I ask for must be one of these,’ said the knight. ‘It may be so,’ answered the peasant; ‘but I shall be overtaken by the morning.’ So saying, he drove on his mules, without waiting for any more questions.
Sancho, seeing his matter in suspence, and over and above dissatisfied, ‘Signior,’ said he, ‘day begins to break, and it will not be altogether convenient to let the sun find us here in the street: we had better quit the city, and look out for some wood in the neighbourhood, where your worship may enjoy the cool shade; and I will return by day, and search every hole and cranny in Toboso for this house, castle, or palace of my lady, and it will be very unfortunate, indeed, if I cannot find it; and if I have the good luck, to meet with her ladyship, I will tell her where and how I have left your worship, in expectation of her contriving some means whereby you may visit her, without any prejudice to her honour and reputation.’—‘Sancho,’ cried Don Quixote, ‘thou hast uttered a thousand sentences within the compass of a few words: the counsel thou hast given me I relish, and most willingly receive. Come, my son, let us go in quest of some thicket, where I may embower myself, while thou shalt return to seek, see, and talk with my mistress, from whose courtesy and discretion I hope to receive more than miraculous favours.’
Sancho burned with impatience to see his master fairly out of town, that he might not detect the falshood of the answer which he pretended to bring from Dulcinea, while he remained in the Brown Mountain: he therefore pressed him to depart, and about two miles from the city they found a thicket or wood, where Don Quixote took up his residence, while Sancho went back to commune with Dulcinea; and, in the course of his embassy, met with adventures that demand new credit and fresh attention.