



Produced by David Widger





                           DON QUIXOTE

                            Volume II.

                             Part 37.

                     by Miguel de Cervantes


                    Translated by John Ormsby



CHAPTER LXI.

OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON ENTERING BARCELONA, TOGETHER WITH OTHER
MATTERS THAT PARTAKE OF THE TRUE RATHER THAN OF THE INGENIOUS


Don Quixote passed three days and three nights with Roque, and had he
passed three hundred years he would have found enough to observe and
wonder at in his mode of life. At daybreak they were in one spot, at
dinner-time in another; sometimes they fled without knowing from whom, at
other times they lay in wait, not knowing for what. They slept standing,
breaking their slumbers to shift from place to place. There was nothing
but sending out spies and scouts, posting sentinels and blowing the
matches of harquebusses, though they carried but few, for almost all used
flintlocks. Roque passed his nights in some place or other apart from his
men, that they might not know where he was, for the many proclamations
the viceroy of Barcelona had issued against his life kept him in fear and
uneasiness, and he did not venture to trust anyone, afraid that even his
own men would kill him or deliver him up to the authorities; of a truth,
a weary miserable life! At length, by unfrequented roads, short cuts, and
secret paths, Roque, Don Quixote, and Sancho, together with six squires,
set out for Barcelona. They reached the strand on Saint John's Eve during
the night; and Roque, after embracing Don Quixote and Sancho (to whom he
presented the ten crowns he had promised but had not until then given),
left them with many expressions of good-will on both sides.

Roque went back, while Don Quixote remained on horseback, just as he was,
waiting for day, and it was not long before the countenance of the fair
Aurora began to show itself at the balconies of the east, gladdening the
grass and flowers, if not the ear, though to gladden that too there came
at the same moment a sound of clarions and drums, and a din of bells, and
a tramp, tramp, and cries of "Clear the way there!" of some runners, that
seemed to issue from the city.

The dawn made way for the sun that with a face broader than a buckler
began to rise slowly above the low line of the horizon; Don Quixote and
Sancho gazed all round them; they beheld the sea, a sight until then
unseen by them; it struck them as exceedingly spacious and broad, much
more so than the lakes of Ruidera which they had seen in La Mancha. They
saw the galleys along the beach, which, lowering their awnings, displayed
themselves decked with streamers and pennons that trembled in the breeze
and kissed and swept the water, while on board the bugles, trumpets, and
clarions were sounding and filling the air far and near with melodious
warlike notes. Then they began to move and execute a kind of skirmish
upon the calm water, while a vast number of horsemen on fine horses and
in showy liveries, issuing from the city, engaged on their side in a
somewhat similar movement. The soldiers on board the galleys kept up a
ceaseless fire, which they on the walls and forts of the city returned,
and the heavy cannon rent the air with the tremendous noise they made, to
which the gangway guns of the galleys replied. The bright sea, the
smiling earth, the clear air--though at times darkened by the smoke of
the guns--all seemed to fill the whole multitude with unexpected delight.
Sancho could not make out how it was that those great masses that moved
over the sea had so many feet.

And now the horsemen in livery came galloping up with shouts and
outlandish cries and cheers to where Don Quixote stood amazed and
wondering; and one of them, he to whom Roque had sent word, addressing
him exclaimed, "Welcome to our city, mirror, beacon, star and cynosure of
all knight-errantry in its widest extent! Welcome, I say, valiant Don
Quixote of La Mancha; not the false, the fictitious, the apocryphal, that
these latter days have offered us in lying histories, but the true, the
legitimate, the real one that Cide Hamete Benengeli, flower of
historians, has described to us!"

Don Quixote made no answer, nor did the horsemen wait for one, but
wheeling again with all their followers, they began curvetting round Don
Quixote, who, turning to Sancho, said, "These gentlemen have plainly
recognised us; I will wager they have read our history, and even that
newly printed one by the Aragonese."

The cavalier who had addressed Don Quixote again approached him and said,
"Come with us, Senor Don Quixote, for we are all of us your servants and
great friends of Roque Guinart's;" to which Don Quixote returned, "If
courtesy breeds courtesy, yours, sir knight, is daughter or very nearly
akin to the great Roque's; carry me where you please; I will have no will
but yours, especially if you deign to employ it in your service."

The cavalier replied with words no less polite, and then, all closing in
around him, they set out with him for the city, to the music of the
clarions and the drums. As they were entering it, the wicked one, who is
the author of all mischief, and the boys who are wickeder than the wicked
one, contrived that a couple of these audacious irrepressible urchins
should force their way through the crowd, and lifting up, one of them
Dapple's tail and the other Rocinante's, insert a bunch of furze under
each. The poor beasts felt the strange spurs and added to their anguish
by pressing their tails tight, so much so that, cutting a multitude of
capers, they flung their masters to the ground. Don Quixote, covered with
shame and out of countenance, ran to pluck the plume from his poor jade's
tail, while Sancho did the same for Dapple. His conductors tried to
punish the audacity of the boys, but there was no possibility of doing
so, for they hid themselves among the hundreds of others that were
following them. Don Quixote and Sancho mounted once more, and with the
same music and acclamations reached their conductor's house, which was
large and stately, that of a rich gentleman, in short; and there for the
present we will leave them, for such is Cide Hamete's pleasure.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The History of Don Quixote, Vol. II.,
Part 37, by Miguel de Cervantes

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