"I will make a point of it," said Don Quixote, "and I thank you for the
pleasure you have given me by relating so interesting a tale."
"Oh," said the goatherd, "I do not know even the half of what has
happened to the lovers of Marcela, but perhaps to-morrow we may fall in
with some shepherd on the road who can tell us; and now it will be well
for you to go and sleep under cover, for the night air may hurt your
wound, though with the remedy I have applied to you there is no fear of
an untoward result."
Sancho Panza, who was wishing the goatherd's loquacity at the devil, on
his part begged his master to go into Pedro's hut to sleep. He did so,
and passed all the rest of the night in thinking of his lady Dulcinea, in
imitation of the lovers of Marcela. Sancho Panza settled himself between
Rocinante and his ass, and slept, not like a lover who had been
discarded, but like a man who had been soundly kicked.