"She is called the Princess Micomicona," said the curate; "for as her
kingdom is Micomicon, it is clear that must be her name."
"There's no doubt of that," replied Sancho, "for I have known many to
take their name and title from the place where they were born and call
themselves Pedro of Alcala, Juan of Ubeda, and Diego of Valladolid; and
it may be that over there in Guinea queens have the same way of taking
the names of their kingdoms."
"So it may," said the curate; "and as for your master's marrying, I will
do all in my power towards it:" with which Sancho was as much pleased as
the curate was amazed at his simplicity and at seeing what a hold the
absurdities of his master had taken of his fancy, for he had evidently
persuaded himself that he was going to be an emperor.
By this time Dorothea had seated herself upon the curate's mule, and the
barber had fitted the ox-tail beard to his face, and they now told Sancho
to conduct them to where Don Quixote was, warning him not to say that he
knew either the licentiate or the barber, as his master's becoming an
emperor entirely depended on his not recognising them; neither the curate
nor Cardenio, however, thought fit to go with them; Cardenio lest he
should remind Don Quixote of the quarrel he had with him, and the curate
as there was no necessity for his presence just yet, so they allowed the
others to go on before them, while they themselves followed slowly on
foot. The curate did not forget to instruct Dorothea how to act, but she
said they might make their minds easy, as everything would be done
exactly as the books of chivalry required and described.
They had gone about three-quarters of a league when they discovered Don
Quixote in a wilderness of rocks, by this time clothed, but without his
armour; and as soon as Dorothea saw him and was told by Sancho that that
was Don Quixote, she whipped her palfrey, the well-bearded barber
following her, and on coming up to him her squire sprang from his mule
and came forward to receive her in his arms, and she dismounting with
great ease of manner advanced to kneel before the feet of Don Quixote;
and though he strove to raise her up, she without rising addressed him in
this fashion:
"From this spot I will not rise, valiant and doughty knight, until your
goodness and courtesy grant me a boon, which will redound to the honour
and renown of your person and render a service to the most disconsolate
and afflicted damsel the sun has seen; and if the might of your strong
arm corresponds to the repute of your immortal fame, you are bound to aid
the helpless being who, led by the savour of your renowned name, hath
come from far distant lands to seek your aid in her misfortunes."