Young Folks' Treasury, Volume 3 — Don Quixote: The Battle With The Bulls; The Fight With The Knight Of The white moon; and How Don Quixote Died

VII

THE BATTLE WITH THE BULLS; THE FIGHT WITH THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE MOON; AND HOW DON QUIXOTE DIED

Soon after this, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode forth in search of other adventures.

They had ridden no great way when they happened upon some young people who had gaily dressed themselves as shepherds and shepherdesses, and were having a picnic in the woods.

These people invited Don Quixote and Sancho to join their feast.

When they had eaten and drunk, the Knight rose, and said that there was no sin worse than that of ingratitude, and that to show how grateful he was for the kindness that had been shown to him and to Sancho, he had only one means in his power.

"Therefore," said he, "I will maintain for two whole days, in the middle of this high road leading to Saragossa, that these ladies here, disguised as shepherdesses, are the most beautiful damsels in the world, except only the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the mistress of my heart."

So, mounting "Rozinante" he rode into the middle of the highway and there took his stand, ready to challenge all comers.

He had sat there no long time when there appeared on the road coming towards him a number of riders, some with spears in their hands, all riding very fast and close together.

In front of them thundered a drove of wild bulls, bellowing and tossing their horns.

At once all the shepherds and the shepherdesses ran behind trees, but Don Quixote sat bravely where he was.

When the horsemen came near, "Get out of the way!"

bawled one of them.

"Stand clear, or these bulls will have you in pieces in no time."

"Halt, scoundrels!"

roared the Knight.

"What are bulls to Don Quixote de la Mancha, if they were the fiercest that ever lived?

Stop, hangdogs!"

But the herdsmen had no time to answer, nor Don Quixote to get out of the way had he wanted to do so, for before any one knew what was happening, the bulls had run right over him and "Rozinante," leaving them and Sancho and "Dapple," his ass, stunned and bruised, rolling in the dust.

As soon as Don Quixote came to his senses he got up in great haste, stumbling here and falling there, and began to run after the herd.

"Stop, you scoundrels!"

he bawled.

"Stop!

It is a single knight that defies you."

But no one took the least notice of him, and he sat sadly down on the road, waiting till Sancho brought "Rozinante" to him.

Then master and man went on their way, Don Quixote sore ashamed of his defeat, hurt as much in mind as in body.

That evening they dismounted at the door of an inn, and put up "Rozinante" and "Dapple" in the stable.

Sancho asked the landlord what he could give them for supper.

"Why," said the man, "you may have anything you choose to call for.

The inn can provide fowls of the air, birds of the earth, and fishes of the sea."

"There's no need for all that," said Sancho.

"If you roast a couple of chickens it will be enough, for my master eats but little, and for myself, I have no great appetite."

"Chickens?"

said the host.

"I am sorry I have no chickens just now.

The hawks have killed them all."

"Well, then, roast us a pullet, if it be tender."

"A pullet?

Well, now, that is unlucky.

I sent away fifty to the market only yesterday.

But, putting pullets aside, ask for anything you like."

"Why, then," said Sancho, pondering, "let us have some veal, or a bit of kid."

"Sorry sir, we are just out of veal and kid also.

Next week we shall have enough and to spare."

"That helps us nicely," said Sancho.

"But at any rate, let us have some eggs and bacon."

"Eggs!"

cried the landlord.

"Now didn't I tell him I had no hens or pullets, and how then can I have eggs?

No, no!

Ask for anything you please in the way of dainties, but don't ask for hens."

"Body o' me!"

said Sancho, "let us have something.

Tell me what you have, and have done."

"Well, what I really and truly have is a pair of cow-heels that look like calves'-feet, or a pair of calves'-feet that look like cow-heels.

You can have that and some bacon."

"They are mine," cried Sancho.

"I don't care whether they are feet or heels."

And as Don Quixote had supper with some other guests who carried with them their own cook and their own larder, Sancho and the landlord supped well on the cow-heels.

Some days after this, the Knight and his squire reached Barcelona.

Neither of them had ever before been near the sea, and the galleys that they saw in the distance being rowed about in the bay sorely puzzled Sancho, who thought that the oars were their legs, and that they must be some strange kind of beast.

Now, one morning, when Don Quixote rode out, fully armed as usual, to take the air on the seashore, he saw a knight riding towards him, armed like himself, and having a bright moon painted on his shield.

As soon as this knight came within hearing he halted, and in a loud voice called out: "Illustrious Don Quixote de la Mancha, I am the Knight of the White Moon, of whose doings you may have heard.

I am come to fight with you and to make you own that the Lady of my Heart, whoever she may be, is more beautiful by far than the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso.

Which truth, if you will confess, I will not slay you.

And if we fight, and I should conquer you, then I ask no more than that you shall go to your own home, and for the space of one year give up carrying arms or searching for adventures.

But if you should conquer me, then my head shall be at your disposal, my horse and arms shall be your spoils, and the fame of my deeds shall be yours.

Consider what I say, and let your answer be quick."

Don Quixote was amazed at hearing these words.

"Knight of the White Moon," said he very solemnly, "the fame of whose doings has not yet come to my ears, I dare swear that thou hast never seen the beautiful Dulcinea, for hadst thou ever viewed her, thou wouldst have been careful not to make this challenge.

The sight of her would have made thee know that there never has been, nor can be, beauty to match hers.

And therefore, without giving thee the lie, I only tell thee thou art mistaken.

I accept your challenge, on your conditions, and at once, except that I am content with the fame of my own deeds, and want not yours.

Choose then whichever side of the field you please, and let us set to."

The two knights then turned their horses to take ground for their charge, but at this moment up rode, with some friends, the Governor of the city of Barcelona, who knew Don Quixote, and who fancied that perhaps this was some new trick being played on him.

The Governor, seeing both knights ready to turn for their charge, asked the Knight of the White Moon what was the cause of the combat, and having heard his answer, could not believe that the affair was not a joke, and so stood aside.

Instantly the two knights charged at top speed.

But the horse of the Knight of the White Moon was by far the bigger and heavier and faster, and he came with such a shock into poor old "Rozinante" that Don Quixote and his horse were hurled to the ground with terrible force, and lay stunned and helpless.

In a moment the Knight of the White Moon was off his horse and holding his spear at Don Quixote's throat.

"Yield, Sir Knight!"

he cried, "or you are a dead man."

Don Quixote, sorely hurt, but with steadfast look, gasped in a faint voice: "I do not yield.

Dulcinea del Toboso is the most beautiful woman in the whole world.

Press on with your spear, Sir Knight, and kill me."

"Nay," said the Knight of the White Moon.

"That will I not do.

I am content if the great Don Quixote return to his home for a year, as we agreed before we fought."

And Don Quixote answered very faintly that as nothing was asked of him to the hurt of Dulcinea, he would carry out all the rest faithfully and truly.

The Knight of the White Moon then galloped away toward the city, where one of the Governor's friends followed him, in order to find out who he was.

The victorious knight was Samson Carrasco, who, some months before, had fought with and had been beaten by Don Quixote.

And he explained to the Governor's friend that all he wanted in fighting was, not to harm Don Quixote, but to make him promise to go home, and stop there for a year, by which time he hoped that his madness about knight-errantry might be cured.

They raised Don Quixote and took off his helmet.

His face was very pale, and he was covered with a cold sweat.

"Rozinante" was in as bad plight as his master, and lay where he had fallen.

Sancho, in great grief, could speak no word, and knew not what to do; to him it was all as a bad dream.

Don Quixote was carried on a stretcher to the town, where for a week he lay in bed without ever raising his head, stricken to the soul by the disgrace of his defeat.

Sancho tried to comfort him.

"Pluck up your heart and be of good cheer, sir," he cried, "and thank Heaven you have broken no bones.

They that give must take.

Let us go home and give up looking for adventures."

"After all, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "it is only for a year.

After that I can begin again, and perhaps then I may be able to make thee an Earl."

"Heaven grant it" said Sancho.

So when the Knight was once more able to move they set out for home, Don Quixote riding "Rozinante" Sancho walking, for "Dapple" carried the armor.

But all the way Don Quixote did not recover from his melancholy, and when at last they reached his village: "Help me to bed," he said, "for I think that I am not very well."

He was put to bed, and carefully nursed.

But a fever had taken hold of him, and for many days Sancho Panza never left his master's bedside.

On the sixth day, the doctor told him he was in great danger.

Don Quixote listened very calmly, and then asked that he might be left by himself for a little--he had a mind to sleep.

His niece and Sancho left the room weeping bitterly, and Don Quixote fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke, with a firm voice he cried: "Blessed be God!

My mind is is now clear, and the clouds have rolled away which those detestable books of knight-errantry cast over me.

Now can I see their nonsense and deceit.

I am at the point of death, and I would meet it so that I may not leave behind me the character of a madman.

Send for the lawyer, that I may make my will."

Excepting only a small sum of money which he gave to Sancho Panza, he left all to his niece.

Thereafter he fell back in bed, and lay unconscious and without movement till the third day, when death very gently took him.

So died Don Quixote de la Mancha, a good man and a brave gentleman to the end.

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS

_VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT_

By JONATHAN SWIFT ADAPTED BY JOHN LANG