it, Sancho,” replied Don Quixote. “For in the same manner and by the same means as I have recounted, knights errant rise and have risen to be kings and emperors. All we need do now is to see which king of Christians or heathens is waging a war and has a beautiful daughter; but there will be time to think about this, for, as I have told you, first one must win fame elsewhere before arriving at court. There is also something else: in the event we find a king at war who has a beautiful daughter, and I have won incredible fame throughout the universe, I do not know how it can be discovered that I am of royal lineage, or, at least, a second cousin to the emperor; the king will not wish to give me his daughter’s hand in marriage unless he is very certain of this first, no matter how meritorious my famous deeds; as a consequence, for this reason, I fear I shall lose what my arm so justly deserves. It is certainly true that I am a gentleman of known lineage, with proprietary rights to an ancestral home, and entitlement to a payment of five hundred sueldos,9 and it well might be that the wise man who writes my history can elucidate my parentage and ancestry in such a way that I shall find myself to be a descendant, five or six times removed, of a king. Because I want you to know, Sancho, that there are two kinds of lineage in the world: some who trace and derive their ancestry from princes and monarchs, which time has gradually undone, and in the end they finish in a point, like a pyramid turned upside down; others have their origin in lowborn people, and they rise by degrees until they become great lords. Which means that the difference between them is that some were and no longer are, and others are what they once were not; I might be one of these, and it might turn out that I had a great and famous beginning, which ought to satisfy the king, my future father-in-law; if it does not, the princess will love me so much despite her father that he, knowing full well that I am the son of a water-carrier, will accept me as her lord and husband; if he does not, this is where abducting her and taking her wherever I choose comes in, for either time or death will put an end to her parents’ anger.”
“And that’s where something else comes in, too,” said Sancho, “because some wicked people say: ‘Don’t ask as a favor what you can take by force,’ though what fits even better is: ‘Escaping punishment is worth more than the pleading of good men.’ I say this because if my lord the king, your grace’s father-in-law, does not agree to giving you my lady the princess, there’s nothing else to do, like your grace says, but abduct her and hide her away. But the trouble with that is that until you make peace and calmly enjoy the kingdom, the poor squire may be starving for favors. Unless the go-between lady-in-waiting, who will be his wife, escapes with the princess, and he suffers misfortunes with her until heaven wills otherwise, because it well may be, I think, that his master will give her to him as his legitimate wife.”
“No one can deny him that,” said Don Quixote.
“Well, since that’s the case,” responded Sancho, “the best thing is to commend ourselves to God and let fate take us wherever it chooses.”
“May God grant,” replied Don Quixote, “what I desire and what you, Sancho, need, and let him be base who thinks himself base.”
“God’s will be done,” said Sancho, “for I am an Old Christian, and that alone is enough for me to be a count.”
“More than enough,” said Don Quixote, “and even if you were not, it would not change anything, because when I am king I can certainly grant you nobility without your buying it or serving me in any way. Because when you are made a count, you will find that you are a gentleman, too, and no matter what people say, they will have to call you lord, even if they do not wish to.”
“And by my faith, I’ll know how to carry off that tittle!” said Sancho.
“You mean title, not tittle,” said his master.
“Whatever it is,” responded Sancho Panza. “I say that I’ll know very well how to manage it, because, by my faith, once I was