Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (103 page)

And look, your graces, at how the emperor turns his back and leaves an indignant Don Gaiferos; now see how he, made impatient by anger, tosses away the backgammon board and pieces and quickly asks for his armor, and asks his cousin Don Roland for the loan of his sword, Durindana, and see how Don Roland does not want to lend it to him, offering instead to accompany him in the difficult enterprise he is undertaking; but the angry and valiant knight does not accept, saying that alone he is enough to rescue his wife, even if she is held at the very center of the earth; and now he goes in to put on his armor so that he can set out im
mediately. Your graces, turn your eyes to the tower that you see there; it is one of the towers of Zaragoza’s castle-fortress now called La Aljafería; and that lady you see on the balcony, dressed in the Moorish fashion, is the peerless Melisendra, who would often stand there, and look at the road to France, and turn her thoughts to Paris and her husband, finding consolation in her captivity. Look too at what is happening now, perhaps unlike anything you have ever seen before. Don’t you see that Moor stealing up behind Melisendra on tiptoe, his finger to his lips? Well, look at how he kisses her right on the mouth, and how quickly she spits and wipes her mouth with the white sleeve of her dress, and how she laments, and in her grief tears at her beautiful hair as if it were to blame for the offense. Look too at that somber Moor in the passageway, King Marsilio of Sansueña, who saw the insolence of the other Moor, had him arrested, though he was a relative and a great favorite, and ordered him to be given two hundred lashes and to be taken through the usual streets of the city,

and see here where they are coming to carry out the sentence so soon after the crime was committed, because the Moors don’t have the ‘indictment of the accused’ and ‘remanded to custody’ that we do.”

“Boy, boy,” said Don Quixote in a loud voice, “tell your story in a straight line and do not become involved in curves or transverse lines, for to get a clear idea of the truth, one must have proofs and more proofs.”

And from the interior, Master Pedro also said:

“Boy, tend to your business and do what that gentleman says, that’s the right thing to do; go on with your plainsong and don’t get involved in counterpoints that usually break because they’re so re-fined.”

“I will,” responded the boy, and he continued, saying:

“This figure who appears here on horseback, wrapped in a Gascony cape, is Don Gaiferos himself, and see his wife, who has been avenged for the insolence of the enamored Moor, looking better and more tranquil as she stands at the window of the tower and talks to her husband, thinking
he is a passerby, and saying to him all those words and phrases in the ballad that says:

I won’t recite them now because going on too long gives rise to boredom; it’s enough to see how Don Gaiferos reveals his identity, and through her joyful gestures Melisendra lets us know that she has recognized him, and now we see her letting herself down from the balcony in order to sit on the hindquarters of her good husband’s horse. But oh! What misfortune! The lace of her skirt has caught on some of the wrought iron at the balcony, and she hangs in midair and cannot reach the ground. But see how merciful heaven sends help at the moment of greatest need, for here comes Don Gaiferos, and not worrying about tearing the rich skirt, he grasps her and simply pulls her down to the ground, and then in a leap he sets her on his horse’s hindquarters, astride like a man, and tells her to hold on tight and places her arms over his shoulders and crosses them on his chest so that she doesn’t fall, since Señora Melisendra was not accustomed to this kind of riding. See too how the neighing of the horse shows that he is content to be carrying the valiant and beautiful burden of his lord and lady. See how they turn their backs and leave the city, and with joy and delight take the road to Paris. Go in peace, O peerless pair of true lovers! May you arrive safely in your own dear country, and may fortune place no obstacle in the way of your happy journey! May the eyes of your friends and relations see you enjoy your days in peace and tranquility, and may those granted you in this life be as many as those of Nestor!”
⁶

At this point Master Pedro once again raised his voice, saying:

“Simplicity, boy, don’t be arrogant, all affectation is bad.”

The interpreter said nothing in reply but went on, saying:

“There was no lack of curious eyes, the kind that tend to see everything, to see Melisendra descend from the balcony and mount the horse, and they informed King Marsilio, who immediately gave orders to sound the call to arms; and see how soon this is done, and how the city is flooded with the sound of the bells that ring from all the towers of the mosques.”

“No, that is wrong!” said Don Quixote. “Master Pedro is incorrect in the matter of the bells, for the Moors do not use bells but drums and a kind of flute that resembles our flageolet, and there is no doubt that ringing bells in Sansueña is a great piece of nonsense.”

This was heard by Master Pedro, who stopped the ringing and said:

“Your grace should not concern yourself with trifles, Señor Don Quixote, or try to carry things so far that you never reach the end of them. Aren’t a thousand plays performed almost every day that are full of a thousand errors and pieces of nonsense, and yet are successful productions that are greeted not only with applause but with admiration? Go on, boy, and let them say what they will, for as long as I fill my purse, there can be more errors than atoms in the sun.”

“That is true,” replied Don Quixote.

And the boy said:

“Look at the number of brilliant horsemen riding out of the city in pursuit of the two Catholic lovers; look at how many trumpets blare, how many flutes play, how many drums and tabors sound. I am afraid they will overtake them and bring them back tied to the tail of their own horse, which would be an awful sight.”

And Don Quixote, seeing and hearing so many Moors and so much clamor, thought it would be a good idea to assist those who were fleeing; and rising to his feet, in a loud voice he said:

“I shall not consent, in my lifetime and in my presence, to any such offense against an enamored knight so famous and bold as Don Gaiferos. Halt, you lowborn rabble; do not follow and do not pursue him unless you wish to do battle with me!”

And speaking and taking action, he unsheathed his sword, leaped next to the stage, and with swift and never before seen fury began to rain down blows on the crowd of Moorish puppets, knocking down some, beheading others, ruining this one, destroying that one, and among many other blows, he delivered so powerful a downstroke that if Master Pedro had not stooped, crouched down, and hunched over, he would have cut off his head more easily than if it had been so much marzipan. Master Pedro cried out, saying:

“Your grace must stop, Señor Don Quixote, and realize that the ones you are overthrowing, destroying, and killing are not real Moors but only pasteboard figures. Sinner that I am, you are destroying and ruining everything I own!”

But this did not keep Don Quixote from raining down slashes, two-
handed blows, thrusts, and backstrokes. In short, in less time than it takes to tell about it, he knocked the puppet theater to the floor, all its scenery and figures cut and broken to pieces: King Marsilio was badly wounded, and Emperor Charlemagne’s head and crown were split in two. The audience of spectators was in a tumult, the monkey ran out the window and onto the roof, the cousin was fearful, the page was frightened, and even Sancho Panza was terrified, because, as he swore when the storm was over, he had never seen his master in so wild a fury. When the general destruction of the puppet theater was complete, Don Quixote calmed down somewhat and said:

“At this moment I should like to have here in front of me all those who do not believe, and do not wish to believe, how much good knights errant do in the world: if I had not been here, just think what would have happened to the worthy Don Gaiferos and the beauteous Melisendra; most certainly, by this time those dogs would have overtaken them and committed some outrage against them. In brief, long live knight errantry, over and above everything in the world today!”

“Long life and good fortune!” said Master Pedro in a faint voice. “And nothing but death for me, for I am so unfortunate that I can say with King Don Rodrigo:

Not half an hour ago, not even half a moment, I was the master of kings and emperors, my stables and coffers and sacks filled with infinite horses and countless treasures, and now I am desolate and dejected, impoverished and a beggar, and worst of all, without my monkey, and by my faith, it will be like pulling teeth to get him back again, and all because of the ill-considered rage of this knight, who, they say, protects orphans, and rights wrongs, and does other charitable works, and in me alone have his generous intentions come to naught, praise be to blessed heaven, where the seats are sublime. In short, the Knight of the Sorrowful Face has certainly brought sorrow to my figures and puppets.”

Sancho Panza was deeply affected by the words of Master Pedro, and he said:

“Don’t cry, Master Pedro, and don’t wail, or you’ll break my heart, and let me tell you that my master, Don Quixote, is so Catholic and scrupulous a Christian that if he realizes he’s done you any harm, he’ll tell you so and want to pay and satisfy you, and with interest.”

“If Señor Don Quixote would pay me even in part for the figures he has destroyed, I would be happy, and his grace would satisfy his conscience, because there is no salvation for the man who holds another’s property against the will of the owner and does not return it.”

“That is true,” said Don Quixote, “but until now I did not know that I had anything of yours, Master Pedro.”

“What do you mean?” responded Master Pedro. “These relics lying on the hard and sterile ground, what scattered and annihilated them but the invincible strength of that mighty arm? And whose bodies were they but mine? And how did I earn my living except with them?”

“Now I believe,” said Don Quixote at this point, “what I have believed on many other occasions: the enchanters who pursue me simply place figures as they really are before my eyes, and then change and alter them into whatever they wish. I tell you really and truly, you gentlemen who can hear me: it seemed to me that everything that happened here was actually happening, that Melisendra was Melisendra, Don Gaiferos Don Gaiferos, Marsilio Marsilio, and Charlemagne Charlemagne; for that reason I was overcome by rage, and to fulfill the obligations of the knight errantry I profess, I wanted to give my help and favor to those who were fleeing, and to this worthy end I did what you have seen; if matters have turned out otherwise, the fault is not mine but lies with the wicked creatures who pursue me; even so, although my error was not the result of malice, I wish to sentence myself to pay the costs: let Master Pedro decide what he wants for the damaged puppets, for I offer to pay him immediately in good, standard Castilian coin.”

Master Pedro bowed, saying:

“I expected no less from the extraordinary Christianity of the valiant Don Quixote of La Mancha, a true shelter and protection for all needy and impoverished wanderers; in this the noble innkeeper and the great Sancho will be mediators between your grace and me, and assessors of what the demolished figures are worth, or might have been worth.”

The innkeeper and Sancho agreed, and then Master Pedro picked up from the floor King Marsilio of Zaragoza, who was missing his head, and said:

“You can see how impossible it is to return this king to his original state, and so, it seems to me, unless you think otherwise, that for his death, end, and termination I should be given four and a half
reales.”

“Continue!” said Don Quixote.

“Well, for this slash that goes from top to bottom,” continued Master Pedro, picking up the two halves of Emperor Charlemagne, “it would not be too much if I asked five and a quarter
reales.”

“That’s no small amount,” said Sancho.

“Not a large one, either,” replied the innkeeper. “Let’s settle at five
reales.”

“Give him the entire five and a quarter,” said Don Quixote, “for a quarter more or less will not change this notable misfortune in any way; finish quickly, Master Pedro, because it is almost time for supper and I am feeling somewhat hungry.”

“For this figure,” said Master Pedro, “the beautiful Melisendra, who is missing a nose and one eye, I want, and I think it’s fair, two
reales
and twelve
maravedís.”

“It would certainly be the devil’s work,” said Don Quixote, “if Melisendra and her husband were not already at the French border, at the very least, because the horse they were riding seemed to me to be flying rather than running; and so there is no reason to try to swindle me, showing me a Melisendra without a nose when the other one is at leisure and making merry in France with her husband. May God help each man with his own affairs, Señor Master Pedro, and let all of us proceed in a straightforward way and with honest intentions. Continue.”

Master Pedro, who saw that Don Quixote was slipping back into madness and returning to his earlier theme, did not want him to get away, and so he said:

“This can’t be Melisendra, it must be one of her maids, and so if you give me sixty
maravedís
for her, I’ll consider myself satisfied and well-paid.”

In this fashion, prices were set for many other destroyed puppets, which were later modified by the two arbitrating judges to the satisfaction of all parties and reached a total of forty and three-quarters
reales;
in addition to this amount, which Sancho immediately took out of the purse and paid to him, Master Pedro requested two
reales
for the effort of catching the monkey.