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Don Quixote passed on to the fourth prisoner, a man of venerable countenance with a white beard that hung down to his chest; hearing himself asked the reason for his being there, he began to weep and did not say a word in reply; but the fifth prisoner served as his interpreter and said:

“This honest man is going to the galleys for four years, having been paraded through the usual streets in robes of state and on horseback.”2

“That, it seems to me,” said Sancho Panza, “means he was shamed in public.”

“That’s true,” replied the galley slave. “And the crime he was punished for was trading in ears, and even in entire bodies. In other words, I mean that this gentleman is going to the galleys for being a go-between,3 and for having a hint and a touch of the sorcerer about him.”

“If you had not added that hint and touch,” said Don Quixote, “for simply being an honest go-between, he does not deserve to be sent to the galleys to row, but to lead and command. Because the position of go-between is not for just anyone; it is an office for the discreet, one that is very necessary in a well-ordered nation and should not be practiced except by the wellborn; there should be supervisors and examiners of go-betweens, as there are for other professions, with a fixed number of known appointees, similar to brokers on the exchange, and in this way many evils would be avoided which are caused because this practice and profession is filled with idiotic and dim-witted people, such as foolish women, pages, and rascals with few years and little experience; when the occasion demands that they find a solution to an important problem, they allow the crumbs to freeze between their hand and their mouth and do not know their right hand from their left. I should like to continue and give reasons why it is appropriate to choose carefully those who fulfill so necessary a function in the nation, but this is not the proper place: one day I shall speak about it to someone who can remedy the situation. For now I shall say only that the sorrow caused in me at seeing this old white head and venerable face in so much distress for being a go-between is mitigated by his being a sorcerer, although I know very well there is no sorcery in the world that can move and compel our desires, as some simpleminded folk believe; our will is free, and there is no herb or spell that can force it. What certain foolish women and lying scoundrels do is prepare concoctions and poisons with which they drive men mad, claiming they have the power to make one person love another, when, as I say, it is impossible to compel desire.”

“That’s true,” said the old man, “and in fact, Señor, in the matter of sorcery I was innocent; in the matter of being a go-between, I could not deny it. But I never thought I was doing wrong: my entire intention was for everybody to be happy and to live in peace and harmony, without discord or distress; but this virtuous desire did not prevent me from being sent to a place from which I do not expect to return, given the burden of my years and a urinary problem that does not give me a moment’s peace.”

And here he began to weep again, as he had earlier, and Sancho felt so much compassion for him that he took a four-real coin from inside his shirt and gave it to him as alms.

Don Quixote moved on and asked another prisoner his crime, and he responded with not less but much more spirit and wit than the previous man:

“I’m here because I made too merry with two girls who were cousins of mine, and with two other sisters who weren’t mine; in short, I made so merry with all of them, and the merriment complicated my family relations so much, that not even the devil can straighten it out. The case was proved, nobody showed me favor, I had no money, I almost had my gullet in a noose, they sentenced me to six years in the galleys, and I agreed: it’s a punishment for my crime; I’m young; just let me stay alive, because where there’s life there’s hope. If your grace, Señor,