Don Quixote - Part I - Page 267/400

"Tell me, Anselmo, if Heaven or good fortune had made thee master and

lawful owner of a diamond of the finest quality, with the excellence and

purity of which all the lapidaries that had seen it had been satisfied,

saying with one voice and common consent that in purity, quality, and

fineness, it was all that a stone of the kind could possibly be, thou

thyself too being of the same belief, as knowing nothing to the contrary,

would it be reasonable in thee to desire to take that diamond and place

it between an anvil and a hammer, and by mere force of blows and strength

of arm try if it were as hard and as fine as they said? And if thou

didst, and if the stone should resist so silly a test, that would add

nothing to its value or reputation; and if it were broken, as it might

be, would not all be lost? Undoubtedly it would, leaving its owner to be

rated as a fool in the opinion of all. Consider, then, Anselmo my friend,

that Camilla is a diamond of the finest quality as well in thy estimation

as in that of others, and that it is contrary to reason to expose her to

the risk of being broken; for if she remains intact she cannot rise to a

higher value than she now possesses; and if she give way and be unable to

resist, bethink thee now how thou wilt be deprived of her, and with what

good reason thou wilt complain of thyself for having been the cause of

her ruin and thine own. Remember there is no jewel in the world so

precious as a chaste and virtuous woman, and that the whole honour of

women consists in reputation; and since thy wife's is of that high

excellence that thou knowest, wherefore shouldst thou seek to call that

truth in question? Remember, my friend, that woman is an imperfect

animal, and that impediments are not to be placed in her way to make her

trip and fall, but that they should be removed, and her path left clear

of all obstacles, so that without hindrance she may run her course freely

to attain the desired perfection, which consists in being virtuous.

Naturalists tell us that the ermine is a little animal which has a fur of

purest white, and that when the hunters wish to take it, they make use of

this artifice. Having ascertained the places which it frequents and

passes, they stop the way to them with mud, and then rousing it, drive it

towards the spot, and as soon as the ermine comes to the mud it halts,

and allows itself to be taken captive rather than pass through the mire,

and spoil and sully its whiteness, which it values more than life and

liberty. The virtuous and chaste woman is an ermine, and whiter and purer

than snow is the virtue of modesty; and he who wishes her not to lose it,

but to keep and preserve it, must adopt a course different from that

employed with the ermine; he must not put before her the mire of the

gifts and attentions of persevering lovers, because perhaps--and even

without a perhaps--she may not have sufficient virtue and natural

strength in herself to pass through and tread under foot these

impediments; they must be removed, and the brightness of virtue and the

beauty of a fair fame must be put before her. A virtuous woman, too, is

like a mirror, of clear shining crystal, liable to be tarnished and

dimmed by every breath that touches it. She must be treated as relics

are; adored, not touched. She must be protected and prized as one

protects and prizes a fair garden full of roses and flowers, the owner of

which allows no one to trespass or pluck a blossom; enough for others

that from afar and through the iron grating they may enjoy its fragrance

and its beauty. Finally let me repeat to thee some verses that come to my

mind; I heard them in a modern comedy, and it seems to me they bear upon

the point we are discussing. A prudent old man was giving advice to

another, the father of a young girl, to lock her up, watch over her and

keep her in seclusion, and among other arguments he used these: