Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [261]
“Those aren’t bad philosophies, as you call them, Sancho, but even so, there is a good deal to say regarding this matter of countships.”
To which Don Quixote replied:
“I do not know if there is more to say; I am guided only by the example of the great Amadís of Gaul, who made his squire count of Ínsula Firme; therefore I can, without scruple or question of conscience, make a count of Sancho Panza, who is one of the best squires a knight errant ever had.”
The canon was astounded by the reasoned nonsense spoken by Don Quixote, by the manner in which he had described the adventure of the Knight of the Lake, by the impression that had been made on him by the intentional lies of the books he had read, and, finally, by the simplemindedness of Sancho, who so fervently desired to obtain the countship his master had promised him.
By now the canon’s servants had returned from the inn, where they had gone for the pack mule, and making a table of a rug and the meadow’s green grass, they sat in the shade of some trees and ate their meal there so that the ox driver could take advantage of the grazing for his animals, as we have already said. While they were eating they suddenly heard a loud noise and the tinkling of a small bell from some nearby brambles and heavy underbrush, and at the same time they saw a beautiful black-, white-, and gray-spotted nanny goat emerge from the thicket. Behind her came a goatherd, calling to her, saying the words that goatherds say to make their animals stop or return to the flock. The fugitive goat, frightened and apprehensive, came up to the company as if asking for their help, and there she stopped. The goatherd ran up, seized her by the horns, and as if she were capable of rational thought and speech, said to her:
“Ah, Spot, my Spot, you’re so wild these days, dashing all around! What wolves are scaring you, my girl? Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, my pretty? What else can it be but that you’re a female and can’t be quiet, and the devil take your condition and all those females you’re imitating! Come back, come back, my friend, and if you’re not happy, at least you’ll be safer in the fold, or with your companions, and if you, who are supposed to lead and guide them, go astray without a guide, what will happen to them?”
The goatherd’s words amused those who were listening, especially the canon, who said to him:
“By your life, brother, calm down a little and do not hurry to return that goat so quickly to her flock, for since she is a female, as you say, she must follow her natural instinct no matter how you may try to prevent it. Eat something, and have a drink to cool your anger, and in the meantime the nanny goat can rest.”
And saying this, and handing him a hindquarter of cold rabbit on the tip of a knife, were all one. The goathered accepted it with thanks, he drank and grew calm, and then he said:
“I would not want your graces to think I’m simple just because I talked to this animal sensibly, as if she could understand, for the truth is the words I said are not mysterious. A rustic I may be, but not so rustic that I don’t understand how to talk to men and to beasts.”
“I certainly believe that,” said the priest, “for I already know from experience that mountains breed learned men and shepherds’ huts house philosophers.”
“At least, Señor,” replied the goatherd, “they shelter men who have suffered greatly, and so that you may believe this truth and touch it with your hand, even though I seem to be inviting myself without being asked, if it does not trouble you to do so and if it is your wish, Señores, lend me your ears for a while and I shall tell you a truth that confirms what this gentleman”—and he pointed to the priest—“and I have said.”
To which Don