CHAPTER 40
OF MATTERS RELATING AND BELONGING TO THIS ADVENTURE AND TO THIS MEMO-
RABLE HISTORY
Verily and truly all those who find pleasure in histories like this ought
show their gratitude to Cide Hamete, its original author, for the scrupulous
care he has taken to set before us all its minute particulars, not leaving any-
thing, however trifling it may be, that he does not make clear and plain. He
portrays the thoughts, he reveals the fancies, he answers implied questions,
clears up doubts, sets objections at rest, and, in a word, makes plain the
smallest points the most inquisitive can desire to know. O renowned author!
O happy Don Quixote! O famous famous droll Sancho! All and each, may
ye live countless ages for the delight and amusement of the dwellers on
earth!
The history goes on to say that when Sancho saw the Distressed One
faint he exclaimed: “I swear by the faith of an honest man and the shades of
all my ancestors the Panzas, that never I did see or hear of, nor has my mas-
ter related or conceived in his mind, such an adventure as this. A thousand
devils—not to curse thee—take thee, Malambruno, for an enchanter and a
giant! Couldst thou find no other sort of punishment for these sinners but
bearding them? Would it not have been better—it would have been better
for them—to have taken off half their noses from the middle upwards, even
though they’d have snuffled when they spoke, than to have put beards on
them? I’ll bet they have not the means of paying anybody to shave them.”
“That is the truth, senor,” said one of the twelve; “we have not the money
to get ourselves shaved, and so we have, some of us, taken to using stick-
ing-plasters by way of an economical remedy, for by applying them to our
faces and plucking them off with a jerk we are left as bare and smooth as
the bottom of a stone mortar. There are, to be sure, women in Kandy that go
about from house to house to remove down, and trim eyebrows, and make
cosmetics for the use of the women, but we, the duennas of my lady, would
never let them in, for most of them have a flavour of agents that have
ceased to be principals; and if we are not relieved by Senor Don Quixote we
shall be carried to our graves with beards.”
“I will pluck out my own in the land of the Moors,” said Don Quixote, “if
I don’t cure yours.”
At this instant the Trifaldi recovered from her swoon and said, “The
chink of that promise, valiant knight, reached my ears in the midst of my
swoon, and has been the means of reviving me and bringing back my sens-
es; and so once more I implore you, illustrious errant, indomitable sir, to let
your gracious promises be turned into deeds.”
“There shall be no delay on my part,” said Don Quixote. “Bethink you,
senora, of what I must do, for my heart is most eager to serve you.”
“The fact is,” replied the Distressed One, “it is five thousand leagues, a
couple more or less, from this to the kingdom of Kandy, if you go by land;
but if you go through the air and in a straight line, it is three thousand two
hundred and twenty-seven. You must know, too, that Malambruno told me
that, whenever fate provided the knight our deliverer, he himself would
send him a steed far better and with less tricks than a post-horse; for he will
be that same wooden horse on which the valiant Pierres carried off the fair
Magalona; which said horse is guided by a peg he has in his forehead that
serves for a bridle, and flies through the air with such rapidity that you
would fancy the very devils were carrying him. This horse, according to an-
cient tradition, was made by Merlin. He lent him to Pierres, who was a
friend of his, and who made long journeys with him, and, as has been said,
carried off the fair Magalona, bearing her through the air on its haunches
and making all who beheld them from the earth gape with astonishment;
and he never lent him save to those whom he loved or those who paid him
well; and since the great Pierres we know of no one having mounted him
until now. From him Malambruno stole him by his magic art, and he has
him now in his possession, and makes use of him in his journeys which he
constantly makes through different parts of the world; he is here to-day, to-
morrow in France, and the next day in Potosi; and the best of it is the said
horse neither eats nor sleeps nor wears out shoes, and goes at an ambling
pace through the air without wings, so that he whom he has mounted upon
him can carry a cup full of water in his hand without spilling a drop, so
smoothly and easily does he go, for which reason the fair Magalona enjoyed
riding him greatly.”
“For going smoothly and easily,” said Sancho at this, “give me my Dap-
ple, though he can’t go through the air; but on the ground I’ll back him
against all the amblers in the world.”
They all laughed, and the Distressed One continued: “And this same
horse, if so be that Malambruno is disposed to put an end to our sufferings,
will be here before us ere the night shall have advanced half an hour; for he
announced to me that the sign he would give me whereby I might know that
I had found the knight I was in quest of, would be to send me the horse
wherever he might be, speedily and promptly.”
“And how many is there room for on this horse?” asked Sancho.
“Two,” said the Distressed One, “one in the saddle, and the other on the
croup; and generally these two are knight and squire, when there is no
damsel that’s being carried off.”
“I’d like to know, Senora Distressed One,” said Sancho, “what is the
name of this horse?”
“His name,” said the Distressed One, “is not the same as Bellerophon’s
horse that was called Pegasus, or Alexander the Great’s, called Bucephalus,
or Orlando Furioso’s, the name of which was Brigliador, nor yet Bayard, the
horse of Reinaldos of Montalvan, nor Frontino like Ruggiero’s, nor Bootes
or Peritoa, as they say the horses of the sun were called, nor is he called
Orelia, like the horse on which the unfortunate Rodrigo, the last king of the
Goths, rode to the battle where he lost his life and his kingdom.”
“I’ll bet,” said Sancho, “that as they have given him none of these famous
names of well-known horses, no more have they given him the name of my
master’s Rocinante, which for being apt surpasses all that have been
mentioned.”
“That is true,” said the bearded countess, “still it fits him very well, for he
is called Clavileno the Swift, which name is in accordance with his being
made of wood, with the peg he has in his forehead, and with the swift pace
at which he travels; and so, as far as name goes, he may compare with the
famous Rocinante.”
“I have nothing to say against his name,” said Sancho; “but with what
sort of bridle or halter is he managed?”
“I have said already,” said the Trifaldi, “that it is with a peg, by turning
which to one side or the other the knight who rides him makes him go as he
pleases, either through the upper air, or skimming and almost sweeping the
earth, or else in that middle course that is sought and followed in all well-
regulated proceedings.”
“I’d like to see him,” said Sancho; “but to fancy I’m going to mount him,
either in the saddle or on the croup, is to ask pears of the elm tree. A good
joke indeed! I can hardly keep my seat upon Dapple, and on a pack-saddle
softer than silk itself, and here they’d have me hold on upon haunches of
plank without pad or cushion of any sort! Gad, I have no notion of bruising
myself to get rid of anyone’s beard; let each one shave himself as best he
can; I’m not going to accompany my master on any such long journey; be-
sides, I can’t give any help to the shaving of these beards as I can to the dis-
enchantment of my lady Dulcinea.”
“Yes, you can, my friend,” replied the Trifaldi; “and so much, that with-
out you, so I understand, we shall be able to do nothing.”
“In the king’s name!” exclaimed Sancho, “what have squires got to do
with the adventures of their masters? Are they to have the fame of such as
they go through, and we the labour? Body o’ me! if the historians would
only say, ‘Such and such a knight finished such and such an adventure, but
with the help of so and so, his squire, without which it would have been im-
possible for him to accomplish it;’ but they write curtly, “Don Par-
alipomenon of the Three Stars accomplished the adventure of the six mon-
sters;’ without mentioning such a person as his squire, who was there all the
time, just as if there was no such being. Once more, sirs, I say my master
may go alone, and much good may it do him; and I’ll stay here in the com-
pany of my lady the duchess; and maybe when he comes back, he will find
the lady Dulcinea’s affair ever so much advanced; for I mean in leisure
hours, and at idle moments, to give myself a spell of whipping without so
much as a hair to cover me.”
“For all that you must go if it be necessary, my good Sancho,” said the
duchess, “for they are worthy folk who ask you; and the faces of these
ladies must not remain overgrown in this way because of your idle fears;
that would be a hard case indeed.”
“In the king’s name, once more!” said Sancho; “If this charitable work
were to be done for the sake of damsels in confinement or charity-girls, a
man might expose himself to some hardships; but to bear it for the sake of
stripping beards off duennas! Devil take it! I’d sooner see them all bearded,
from the highest to the lowest, and from the most prudish to the most
affected.”
“You are very hard on duennas, Sancho my friend,” said the duchess;
“you incline very much to the opinion of the Toledo apothecary. But indeed
you are wrong; there are duennas in my house that may serve as patterns of
duennas; and here is my Dona Rodriguez, who will not allow me to say
otherwise.”
“Your excellence may say it if you like,” said the Rodriguez; “for God
knows the truth of everything; and whether we duennas are good or bad,
bearded or smooth, we are our mothers’ daughters like other women; and as
God sent us into the world, he knows why he did, and on his mercy I rely,
and not on anybody’s beard.”
“Well, Senora Rodriguez, Senora Trifaldi, and present company,” said
Don Quixote, “I trust in Heaven that it will look with kindly eyes upon your
troubles, for Sancho will do as I bid him. Only let Clavileno come and let
me find myself face to face with Malambruno, and I am certain no razor
will shave you more easily than my sword shall shave Malambruno’s head
off his shoulders; for ‘God bears with the wicked, but not for ever.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the Distressed One at this, “may all the stars of the ce-
lestial regions look down upon your greatness with benign eyes, valiant
knight, and shed every prosperity and valour upon your heart, that it may be
the shield and safeguard of the abused and downtrodden race of duennas,
detested by apothecaries, sneered at by squires, and made game of by pages.
Ill betide the jade that in the flower of her youth would not sooner become a
nun than a duenna! Unfortunate beings that we are, we duennas! Though we
may be descended in the direct male line from Hector of Troy himself, our
mistresses never fail to address us as ‘you’ if they think it makes queens of
them. O giant Malambruno, though thou art an enchanter, thou art true to
thy promises. Send us now the peerless Clavileno, that our misfortune may
be brought to an end; for if the hot weather sets in and these beards of ours
are still there, alas for our lot!”
The Trifaldi said this in such a pathetic way that she drew tears from the
eyes of all and even Sancho’s filled up; and he resolved in his heart to ac-
company his master to the uttermost ends of the earth, if so be the removal
of the wool from those venerable countenances depended upon it.
