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Sancho had told the priest and the barber about the adventure of the galley slaves, which his master had concluded so gloriously, and for this reason the priest was very harsh when he referred to it in order to see what Don Quixote would do or say; he changed color at each word and did not dare say that he had been the liberator of those good people.

“These men, then,” said the priest, “were the ones who robbed us. May God in His mercy pardon the man who did not allow them to be taken to the punishment they deserved.”

CHAPTER XXX

Which recounts the good judgment of the beautiful Dorotea, along with other highly diverting and amusing matters

No sooner had the priest finished speaking than Sancho said:

“Well, by my faith, Señor Licentiate, the man who did that deed was my master, and don’t think I didn’t tell him beforehand, and warn him to be careful about what he was doing, and say it was a sin to free them since all of them were there because they were great villains.”

“Imbecile,” said Don Quixote, “it is not the responsibility or concern of a knight errant to determine if the afflicted, the fettered, and the oppressed whom he meets along the road are in that condition and suffering that anguish because of misdeeds or kind acts. His only obligation is to help them because they are in need, turning his eyes to their suffering and not their wickedness. And I encountered a rosary, a string of disheartened, unfortunate people, and I did for them what my religion1 asks of me; the rest does not concern me, and I say that whoever thinks this is wrong, excepting the holy dignity of the licentiate and his honored person, knows little of the matter of chivalry, and lies like a lowborn whoreson, and will be taught this by my sword at greater length.”

And as he said this, he thrust his feet firmly into the stirrups and set his simple morion helmet firmly on his head, because the barber’s basin, which to his mind was the helmet of Mambrino, hung from the forebow of his saddle, waiting for the damage it had received at the hands of the galley slaves to be repaired.

Dorotea, who was quick-witted and very spirited, knew that Don Quixote’s reason was impaired and that everyone mocked and deceived him except Sancho Panza; she did not wish to do any less, and seeing him so angry, she said:

“Señor Knight, your grace should remember the boon you have promised me, according to which you cannot become involved in any other adventure no matter how urgent; your grace should calm your spirits, for if the licentiate had known that the galley slaves had been freed by that unvanquished arm, he would have put three stitches across his mouth and even bitten his tongue three times before saying a single word that in any way would redound to your grace’s discredit.”

“I certainly swear to that,” said the priest, “and even would have removed half of my mustache.”

“I shall be silent, Señora,” said Don Quixote, “and repress the righteous anger that hath welled up in my bosom, and go quietly and peacefully until such time as I have fulfilled the boon I have promised thee; but, as recompense for this virtuous desire, I implore thee to tell me, if it doth not cause thee too much pain, what it is that distresseth thee, and who, what, and how many are the persons on whom I must wreak proper, complete, and entire vengeance.”

“I shall be happy to do that,” responded Dorotea, “if it doth not trouble thee to hear sorrows and misfortunes.”

“It troubleth me not, Señora,” responded Don Quixote.

To which Dorotea responded:

“If that be so, then your graces should give me your attention.”

As soon as she said this, Cardenio and the barber came up beside her, wishing to see how the clever Dorotea would invent her history, and Sancho did the same, for she had misled him as much as she had his master. And she, after making herself comfortable on the saddle and coughing and doing a few other things in preparation, began, with a good deal of