• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

CHAPTER XLVII

Regarding the strange manner in which Don Quixote of La Mancha was enchanted, and other notable events

When Don Quixote saw himself caged in that manner and placed on a cart, he said:

“I have read many extremely serious histories of knights errant, but never have I read, or seen, or heard of enchanted knights being carried in this fashion and at the pace promised by these sluggish and dilatory animals; the knights are always transported through the air with remarkable speed, enclosed in a dark and doleful cloud, or riding a chariot of fire, or mounted on a hippogryph or some other similar beast; but being carried now on an oxcart, by God that leaves me in a state of confusion!1 Perhaps in these our modern times, however, chivalry and enchantments follow a path different from the one they followed in ancient times. It also might be that since I am a new knight in the world, the first to resuscitate the now forgotten practice of errant chivalry, new kinds of enchantments and new ways of transporting the enchanted have also been devised. What do you think, Sancho my son?”

“I don’t know what I think,” responded Sancho, “since I’m not as well-read as your grace in errant writings, but even so, I’d say and even swear that these phantoms wandering around here are not entirely Catholic.”2

“Catholic? By my sainted father!” responded Don Quixote. “How can they be Catholic if they are all demons who have taken on fantastic bodies in order to come here and do this and bring me to this state? And if you wish to see the truth of this, touch them and feel them and you will see that they have no body but are composed of air, and are nothing more than appearance.”

“By God, Señor,” replied Sancho, “I have touched them, and this devil who’s so busy here is stocky and well-fleshed, and has another trait that’s very different from what I’ve heard about demons, because people say all demons stink of sulfur and brimstone and other bad odors, but this one smells of ambergris from half a league away.”

Sancho said this about Don Fernando, who, being so noble, must have smelled just as Sancho said.

“Do not be surprised at this, Sancho my friend,” responded Don Quixote, “because I can tell you that devils know a great deal, and although they bring odors with them, they themselves do not smell at all because they are spirits, and if they do smell, it cannot be of pleasant things, but only of things that are foul and putrid. The reason is that since they, wherever they may be, carry hell with them and cannot find any kind of relief from their torments, and a pleasant odor is something that brings joy and pleasure, it is not possible for them to have an agreeable smell. And so, if it seems to you that the demon you have mentioned smells of ambergris, either you are mistaken or he wants to deceive you by making you think he is not a demon.”

All of these words passed between master and servant; fearing that Sancho would see through their deception, which he had already been very close to doing, Don Fernando and Cardenio decided to make their departure as brief as possible; they called the innkeeper aside and told him to saddle Rocinante and harness Sancho’s donkey, which he did very quickly.

Meanwhile, the priest had reached an arrangement with the officers: they would accompany him to his village, and he would pay them a daily fee. Cardenio hung Don Quixote’s shield on one side of Rocinante’s saddlebow and the basin on the other; he signaled to Sancho to mount his donkey and lead Rocinante by the reins, and on each side of the cart he placed two officers with their flintlocks. But before the cart began to move, the innkeeper’s wife, her daughter, and Maritornes came out to take their leave of Don Quixote, pretending to weep with sorrow at his misfortune, to which Don Quixote said:

“Weepeth not, good ladies, for all such adversities are innate to those who profess what I profess; and if these calamities didst not befall me, I wouldst not deem myself a famous knight errant, for such things ne’er happen to knights of little