Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [199]
The man’s appearance was robust and attractive, his age a little over forty, his face rather dark, with a long mustache and a carefully trimmed beard; in short, his bearing revealed that if he had been well-dressed, he would have been deemed noble and highborn.
When he entered he asked for a room, and when he was told there was none in the inn, he seemed troubled; he approached the woman whose dress made her seem Moorish and lifted her down in his arms. Luscinda, Dorotea, the innkeeper’s wife, her daughter, and Maritornes, drawn by her clothing, which seemed strange to them, for they had not seen its like before, gathered around the Moorish woman, and Dorotea, who was always charming, courteous, and clever, thought that both she and the man who accompanied her were distressed by the lack of a room, and she said:
“Do not be troubled, Señora, at not finding suitable accommodation here, for it is almost never found in inns; even so, if you would like to stay with us”—and she pointed to Luscinda—“perhaps you will find a better welcome here than elsewhere on your journey.”
The veiled lady did not say anything in response, but she rose from the chair where she was sitting, crossed both hands on her bosom, inclined her head, and bowed to show her thanks. From her silence they imagined that she undoubtedly was a Moor and could not speak Christian. Just then the captive,3 who had been attending to other matters, approached, and seeing that all the women were standing around his companion, but that she did not respond to the statements directed to her, he said:
“Señoras, this maiden barely understands my language and does not know how to speak any other except the one spoken in her own country, and this is why she has not replied and will not reply to the questions you have asked her.”
“We have not asked her anything,” responded Luscinda, “but we have offered her our companionship for the night, and a place in the room where we will sleep, and as much comfort as it is possible to find here, for we desire and are bound to serve all strangers who need our help, especially if the one in need is a woman.”
“On her behalf and on mine,” responded the captive, “I kiss your hands, Señora, and I certainly esteem your offer as it deserves to be es-teemed; on an occasion such as this, and from persons such as yourselves, that merit is very high indeed.”
“Tell me, Señor,” said Dorotea, “is this lady a Christian or a Moor? Her dress and her silence make us think she is what we would rather she was not.”
“She is a Moor in her dress and body, but in her soul she is a devout Christian because she has a very strong desire to be one.”
“Then, she isn’t baptized?” replied Luscinda.
“We have not had the opportunity for that,” responded the captive, “since we left Algiers, her home and native land, and until now she has not been in mortal danger that would oblige her to be baptized without first knowing all the ceremonies required by our Holy Mother Church; but God willing, she will soon be baptized with all the decorum her station deserves, for it is higher than that indicated by her attire, or mine.”
With these words, he woke everyone’s desire to know who the Moorish lady was, and who the captive, but no one wished to ask any questions just then, since it was clearly time to allow them to rest rather than ask about their lives. Dorotea took the stranger by the hand, led her to a seat next to her own, and asked that she remove the veil. The Moorish lady looked at the captive, as if asking him to tell her what was being said and what she should do. He told her, in Arabic, that she was being asked to remove her veil and that she should do so, and she lifted her veil and revealed a face so beautiful that Dorotea thought her more beautiful than Luscinda, and Luscinda thought her more beautiful than Dorotea, and everyone present realized that if any beauty could equal that