Don Quixote - Part I - Page 217/400

"Seeing all the household in confusion, I ventured to come out regardless

whether I were seen or not, and determined, if I were, to do some

frenzied deed that would prove to all the world the righteous indignation

of my breast in the punishment of the treacherous Don Fernando, and even

in that of the fickle fainting traitress. But my fate, doubtless

reserving me for greater sorrows, if such there be, so ordered it that

just then I had enough and to spare of that reason which has since been

wanting to me; and so, without seeking to take vengeance on my greatest

enemies (which might have been easily taken, as all thought of me was so

far from their minds), I resolved to take it upon myself, and on myself

to inflict the pain they deserved, perhaps with even greater severity

than I should have dealt out to them had I then slain them; for sudden

pain is soon over, but that which is protracted by tortures is ever

slaying without ending life. In a word, I quitted the house and reached

that of the man with whom I had left my mule; I made him saddle it for

me, mounted without bidding him farewell, and rode out of the city, like

another Lot, not daring to turn my head to look back upon it; and when I

found myself alone in the open country, screened by the darkness of the

night, and tempted by the stillness to give vent to my grief without

apprehension or fear of being heard or seen, then I broke silence and

lifted up my voice in maledictions upon Luscinda and Don Fernando, as if

I could thus avenge the wrong they had done me. I called her cruel,

ungrateful, false, thankless, but above all covetous, since the wealth of

my enemy had blinded the eyes of her affection, and turned it from me to

transfer it to one to whom fortune had been more generous and liberal.

And yet, in the midst of this outburst of execration and upbraiding, I

found excuses for her, saying it was no wonder that a young girl in the

seclusion of her parents' house, trained and schooled to obey them

always, should have been ready to yield to their wishes when they offered

her for a husband a gentleman of such distinction, wealth, and noble

birth, that if she had refused to accept him she would have been thought

out of her senses, or to have set her affection elsewhere, a suspicion

injurious to her fair name and fame. But then again, I said, had she

declared I was her husband, they would have seen that in choosing me she

had not chosen so ill but that they might excuse her, for before Don

Fernando had made his offer, they themselves could not have desired, if

their desires had been ruled by reason, a more eligible husband for their

daughter than I was; and she, before taking the last fatal step of giving

her hand, might easily have said that I had already given her mine, for I

should have come forward to support any assertion of hers to that effect.

In short, I came to the conclusion that feeble love, little reflection,

great ambition, and a craving for rank, had made her forget the words

with which she had deceived me, encouraged and supported by my firm hopes

and honourable passion.