Don Quixote - Part I - Page 129/400

As soon as they were both mounted, at the gate of the inn, he called to

the host and said in a very grave and measured voice, "Many and great are

the favours, Senor Alcaide, that I have received in this castle of yours,

and I remain under the deepest obligation to be grateful to you for them

all the days of my life; if I can repay them in avenging you of any

arrogant foe who may have wronged you, know that my calling is no other

than to aid the weak, to avenge those who suffer wrong, and to chastise

perfidy. Search your memory, and if you find anything of this kind you

need only tell me of it, and I promise you by the order of knighthood

which I have received to procure you satisfaction and reparation to the

utmost of your desire."

The innkeeper replied to him with equal calmness, "Sir Knight, I do not

want your worship to avenge me of any wrong, because when any is done me

I can take what vengeance seems good to me; the only thing I want is that

you pay me the score that you have run up in the inn last night, as well

for the straw and barley for your two beasts, as for supper and beds."

"Then this is an inn?" said Don Quixote.

"And a very respectable one," said the innkeeper.

"I have been under a mistake all this time," answered Don Quixote, "for

in truth I thought it was a castle, and not a bad one; but since it

appears that it is not a castle but an inn, all that can be done now is

that you should excuse the payment, for I cannot contravene the rule of

knights-errant, of whom I know as a fact (and up to the present I have

read nothing to the contrary) that they never paid for lodging or

anything else in the inn where they might be; for any hospitality that

might be offered them is their due by law and right in return for the

insufferable toil they endure in seeking adventures by night and by day,

in summer and in winter, on foot and on horseback, in hunger and thirst,

cold and heat, exposed to all the inclemencies of heaven and all the

hardships of earth."

"I have little to do with that," replied the innkeeper; "pay me what you

owe me, and let us have no more talk of chivalry, for all I care about is

to get my money."

"You are a stupid, scurvy innkeeper," said Don Quixote, and putting spurs

to Rocinante and bringing his pike to the slope he rode out of the inn

before anyone could stop him, and pushed on some distance without looking

to see if his squire was following him.