Don Quixote - Part I - Page 123/400

"Would that found myself, lovely and exalted lady, in a position to repay

such a favour as that which you, by the sight of your great beauty, have

granted me; but fortune, which is never weary of persecuting the good,

has chosen to place me upon this bed, where I lie so bruised and broken

that though my inclination would gladly comply with yours it is

impossible; besides, to this impossibility another yet greater is to be

added, which is the faith that I have pledged to the peerless Dulcinea

del Toboso, sole lady of my most secret thoughts; and were it not that

this stood in the way I should not be so insensible a knight as to miss

the happy opportunity which your great goodness has offered me."

Maritornes was fretting and sweating at finding herself held so fast by

Don Quixote, and not understanding or heeding the words he addressed to

her, she strove without speaking to free herself. The worthy carrier,

whose unholy thoughts kept him awake, was aware of his doxy the moment

she entered the door, and was listening attentively to all Don Quixote

said; and jealous that the Asturian should have broken her word with him

for another, drew nearer to Don Quixote's bed and stood still to see what

would come of this talk which he could not understand; but when he

perceived the wench struggling to get free and Don Quixote striving to

hold her, not relishing the joke he raised his arm and delivered such a

terrible cuff on the lank jaws of the amorous knight that he bathed all

his mouth in blood, and not content with this he mounted on his ribs and

with his feet tramped all over them at a pace rather smarter than a trot.

The bed which was somewhat crazy and not very firm on its feet, unable to

support the additional weight of the carrier, came to the ground, and at

the mighty crash of this the innkeeper awoke and at once concluded that

it must be some brawl of Maritornes', because after calling loudly to her

he got no answer. With this suspicion he got up, and lighting a lamp

hastened to the quarter where he had heard the disturbance. The wench,

seeing that her master was coming and knowing that his temper was

terrible, frightened and panic-stricken made for the bed of Sancho Panza,

who still slept, and crouching upon it made a ball of herself.

The innkeeper came in exclaiming, "Where art thou, strumpet? Of course

this is some of thy work." At this Sancho awoke, and feeling this mass

almost on top of him fancied he had the nightmare and began to distribute

fisticuffs all round, of which a certain share fell upon Maritornes, who,

irritated by the pain and flinging modesty aside, paid back so many in

return to Sancho that she woke him up in spite of himself. He then,

finding himself so handled, by whom he knew not, raising himself up as

well as he could, grappled with Maritornes, and he and she between them

began the bitterest and drollest scrimmage in the world. The carrier,

however, perceiving by the light of the innkeeper candle how it fared

with his ladylove, quitting Don Quixote, ran to bring her the help she

needed; and the innkeeper did the same but with a different intention,

for his was to chastise the lass, as he believed that beyond a doubt she

alone was the cause of all the harmony. And so, as the saying is, cat to

rat, rat to rope, rope to stick, the carrier pounded Sancho, Sancho the

lass, she him, and the innkeeper her, and all worked away so briskly that

they did not give themselves a moment's rest; and the best of it was that

the innkeeper's lamp went out, and as they were left in the dark they all

laid on one upon the other in a mass so unmercifully that there was not a

sound spot left where a hand could light.