Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [200]
Don Fernando asked the captive what her name was, and he replied that it was Lela4 Zoraida, and as soon as the Moor heard this she understood what had been asked, and she hastened to say, with much distress but great charm:
“No! No Zoraida! María, María!” In this way she indicated that her name was María, not Zoraida.
These words, and the great emotion with which the Moorish lady said them, brought more than one tear to the eyes of some who were listening, especially the women, who are by nature tenderhearted and compassionate. Luscinda embraced her with a good deal of affection, saying:
“Yes, yes! María, María!”
To which the Moor responded:
“Yes, yes, María; Zoraida macange!”—a word that means no.
By this time night had fallen, and on the orders of those who had accompanied Don Fernando, the innkeeper had been diligent and careful in preparing the best supper he could. When it was time to eat, they all sat at a long refectory table, for there were no round or square ones in the inn, and they gave the principal seat at the head of the table to Don Quixote, although he tried to refuse it, and then he wanted Señora Micomicona at his side, for he was her protector. Then came Luscinda and Zoraida, and facing them Don Fernando and Cardenio, and then the captive and the other gentlemen, and on the ladies’ side, the priest and the barber. And in this manner they ate very happily, even more so when Don Quixote stopped eating, moved by a spirit similar to the one that had moved him to speak at length when he ate with the goatherds, and he began by saying:
“Truly, Señores, if one considers it carefully, great and wonderful are the things seen by those who profess the order of knight errantry. For who in this world, coming through the door of this castle and seeing us as we appear now, would judge and believe that we are who we are? Who would say that this lady at my side is the great queen we all know she is, and that I am the Knight of the Sorrowful Face whose name is on the lips of fame? There can be no doubt that this art and profession exceeds all others invented by men, for the more dangerous something is, the more it should be esteemed. Away with those who say that letters are superior to arms,5 for I shall tell them, whoever they may be, that they do not know what they are saying. The reason usually given by these people, and the one on which they rely, is that the works of the spirit are greater than those of the body, and that arms are professed by the body alone, as if this profession were the work of laborers, for which one needs nothing more than strength, or as if in the profession we call arms, those of us who practice it do not perform acts of fortitude that demand great intelligence to succeed, or as if the courage of a warrior who leads an army or defends a city under siege does not make use of his spirit as well as his body. If you do not agree, consider that knowing the enemy’s intentions, surmising his plans and stratagems, foreseeing difficulties, preventing harm: all of these are actions of mind in which the body plays no part at all. If it is true that arms require spirit, as do letters, let us now see which of the two spirits, that of the lettered man or that of the warrior, is more active; this can be known by the purpose and aim of each, for an intention must be more highly esteemed if it has as its object a nobler end.
The purpose and aim of letters—and I do not speak now of divine letters, whose purpose is to bring and guide souls to heaven; so eternal an end cannot be equaled by any other—I am speaking of human letters, whose purpose is to maintain distributive justice, and give each man what is his, and make certain that good laws are obeyed. A purpose, certainly, that is generous and high and worthy of great praise,