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“What do you mean, different?” replied Don Quixote. “Do you mean the peasant did not pay you?”

“He not only didn’t pay me,” responded the boy, “but as soon as your grace crossed the wood and we were alone, he tied me to the same oak tree again and gave me so many more lashes that I was flayed like St. Bartholomew, and with each lash he mocked you and made a joke about how he had fooled your grace, and if I hadn’t been feeling so much pain, I’d have laughed at what he said. But the fact is he raised so many welts that until now I’ve been in a hospital because of the harm that wicked peasant did to me. Your grace is to blame for everything, because if you had continued on your way and not come when nobody was calling you or mixed into other people’s business, my master would have been satisfied with giving me one or two dozen lashes, and then he would have let me go and paid me what he owed me. But your grace dishonored him for no reason, and called him so many names that he lost his temper, and since he couldn’t take his revenge on your grace, when we were alone he vented his anger on me, so that it seems to me I won’t be the same man again for the rest of my life.”

“The mistake,” said Don Quixote, “was in my leaving, for I should not have gone until you were paid; I ought to have known, from long experience, that no peasant keeps his word if he sees that it is not to his advantage to do so. But remember, Andrés: I swore that if he did not pay you, I would go in search of him and find him even if he hid in the belly of the whale.”

“That’s true,” said Andrés, “but it didn’t do any good.”

“Now you will tell me if it does,” said Don Quixote.

And having said this, he stood up very quickly and ordered Sancho to put the bridle on Rocinante, who was grazing while they ate.

Dorotea asked what he intended to do. He responded that he wanted to find the peasant, and punish him for behaving so badly, and oblige him to pay Andrés down to the last maravedí, in spite of and despite all the peasants in the world. To which she responded that according to the boon he had promised, he could not become involved in any other enterprise until hers was concluded, and since he knew this better than anyone, he must hold his fury in check until he returned from her kingdom.

“That is true,” responded Don Quixote, “and it is necessary for Andrés to be patient until my return, as you, Señora, have said; to him I vow and promise again that I shall not rest until I see him avenged and paid.”

“I don’t believe those vows.” said Andrés. “I’d rather have enough to get to Sevilla than all the revenge in the world: if you can spare it, give me some food to take with me, and God bless your grace and all the other knights errant, and I hope they’re errant enough to find a punishment as good as the one I got.”

Sancho took a piece of bread and some cheese from his bag, and handing them to the boy, he said:

“Take this, brother Andrés, for all of us have a part in your misfortune.”

“Which part do you have?” asked Andrés.

“This part, the cheese and bread I’m giving you,” responded Sancho, “for God only knows if I’ll need it or not, because I’m telling you, my friend, the squires of knights errant are subject to a good deal of hunger and misfortune, and even other things that are felt more easily than said.”

Andrés took the bread and cheese, and seeing that no one gave him anything else, he lowered his head and, as they say, seized the road with both hands. It is certainly true that when he left, he said to Don Quixote:

“For the love of God, Señor Knight Errant, if you ever run into me again, even if you see them chopping me to pieces, don’t help me and don’t come to my aid, but leave me alone with my misfortune; no matter how bad it is, it won’t be worse than what will happen to me when I’m helped by your grace, and may God curse you and all the knights errant ever born in this world.”

Don Quixote was about to get up to punish him, but Andrés began