Good God! what a number of countries and nations he named! giving to each
its proper attributes with marvellous readiness; brimful and saturated
with what he had read in his lying books! Sancho Panza hung upon his
words without speaking, and from time to time turned to try if he could
see the knights and giants his master was describing, and as he could not
make out one of them he said to him:
"Senor, devil take it if there's a sign of any man you talk of, knight or
giant, in the whole thing; maybe it's all enchantment, like the phantoms
last night."
"How canst thou say that!" answered Don Quixote; "dost thou not hear the
neighing of the steeds, the braying of the trumpets, the roll of the
drums?"
"I hear nothing but a great bleating of ewes and sheep," said Sancho;
which was true, for by this time the two flocks had come close.
"The fear thou art in, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "prevents thee from
seeing or hearing correctly, for one of the effects of fear is to derange
the senses and make things appear different from what they are; if thou
art in such fear, withdraw to one side and leave me to myself, for alone
I suffice to bring victory to that side to which I shall give my aid;"
and so saying he gave Rocinante the spur, and putting the lance in rest,
shot down the slope like a thunderbolt. Sancho shouted after him, crying,
"Come back, Senor Don Quixote; I vow to God they are sheep and ewes you
are charging! Come back! Unlucky the father that begot me! what madness
is this! Look, there is no giant, nor knight, nor cats, nor arms, nor
shields quartered or whole, nor vair azure or bedevilled. What are you
about? Sinner that I am before God!" But not for all these entreaties did
Don Quixote turn back; on the contrary he went on shouting out, "Ho,
knights, ye who follow and fight under the banners of the valiant emperor
Pentapolin of the Bare Arm, follow me all; ye shall see how easily I
shall give him his revenge over his enemy Alifanfaron of the Trapobana."
So saying, he dashed into the midst of the squadron of ewes, and began
spearing them with as much spirit and intrepidity as if he were
transfixing mortal enemies in earnest. The shepherds and drovers
accompanying the flock shouted to him to desist; seeing it was no use,
they ungirt their slings and began to salute his ears with stones as big
as one's fist. Don Quixote gave no heed to the stones, but, letting drive
right and left kept saying: