Don Quixote - Part I - Page 221/400

As soon as he had done bathing his beautiful feet, he wiped them with a

towel he took from under the montera, on taking off which he raised his

face, and those who were watching him had an opportunity of seeing a

beauty so exquisite that Cardenio said to the curate in a whisper:

"As this is not Luscinda, it is no human creature but a divine being."

The youth then took off the montera, and shaking his head from side to

side there broke loose and spread out a mass of hair that the beams of

the sun might have envied; by this they knew that what had seemed a

peasant was a lovely woman, nay the most beautiful the eyes of two of

them had ever beheld, or even Cardenio's if they had not seen and known

Luscinda, for he afterwards declared that only the beauty of Luscinda

could compare with this. The long auburn tresses not only covered her

shoulders, but such was their length and abundance, concealed her all

round beneath their masses, so that except the feet nothing of her form

was visible. She now used her hands as a comb, and if her feet had seemed

like bits of crystal in the water, her hands looked like pieces of driven

snow among her locks; all which increased not only the admiration of the

three beholders, but their anxiety to learn who she was. With this object

they resolved to show themselves, and at the stir they made in getting

upon their feet the fair damsel raised her head, and parting her hair

from before her eyes with both hands, she looked to see who had made the

noise, and the instant she perceived them she started to her feet, and

without waiting to put on her shoes or gather up her hair, hastily

snatched up a bundle as though of clothes that she had beside her, and,

scared and alarmed, endeavoured to take flight; but before she had gone

six paces she fell to the ground, her delicate feet being unable to bear

the roughness of the stones; seeing which, the three hastened towards

her, and the curate addressing her first said:

"Stay, senora, whoever you may be, for those whom you see here only

desire to be of service to you; you have no need to attempt a flight so

heedless, for neither can your feet bear it, nor we allow it."

Taken by surprise and bewildered, she made no reply to these words. They,

however, came towards her, and the curate taking her hand went on to say:

"What your dress would hide, senora, is made known to us by your hair; a

clear proof that it can be no trifling cause that has disguised your

beauty in a garb so unworthy of it, and sent it into solitudes like these

where we have had the good fortune to find you, if not to relieve your

distress, at least to offer you comfort; for no distress, so long as life

lasts, can be so oppressive or reach such a height as to make the

sufferer refuse to listen to comfort offered with good intention. And so,

senora, or senor, or whatever you prefer to be, dismiss the fears that

our appearance has caused you and make us acquainted with your good or

evil fortunes, for from all of us together, or from each one of us, you

will receive sympathy in your trouble."