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By Root 1111 0

six pots of water, there being some difference of opinion regarding the number, he washed his head and face, and still the water was the color of whey, thanks to Sancho’s gluttony and his purchase of the blackhearted curds that turned his master so white. With these adornments, and genteel grace and gallantry, Don Quixote went to another room, where the student was waiting to entertain him while the tables were being laid, for with the arrival of so noble a guest, Señora Doña Cristina wished to show that she knew how and was able to lavish attention on those who visited her house.

While Don Quixote was removing his armor, Don Lorenzo, which was the name of Don Diego’s son, had the opportunity to say to his father:

“Señor, who can this knight be whom you have brought to our house? His name and appearance, and his saying that he is a knight errant, have baffled my mother and me.”

“Son, I don’t know what to tell you,” responded Don Diego. “I can say only that I have seen him do things worthy of the greatest madman in the world, and heard him say things so intelligent that they wipe out and undo his mad acts: speak to him, and explore what he knows, and since you are clever, you’ll make a reasonable judgment regarding his cleverness or foolishness, though to tell you the truth, I think he’s more mad than sane.”

Then Don Lorenzo went in to entertain Don Quixote, as has been said, and among other exchanges that passed between them, Don Quixote said to Don Lorenzo:

“Your grace’s father, Señor Don Diego de Miranda, has informed me of the rare ability and subtle ingenuity which your grace possesses, and, in particular, that your grace is a great poet.”

“A poet, perhaps,” responded Don Lorenzo, “but by no means great. The truth is, I have a predilection for poetry and for reading good poets, but that does not justify calling me great, as my father has done.”

“This humility does not seem a bad thing to me,” responded Don Quixote, “because there is no poet who is not arrogant and does not think himself the greatest poet in the world.”

“Every rule has its exception,” responded Don Lorenzo, “and there must be some who are great and do not think so.”

“Very few,” responded Don Quixote. “But tell me, your grace, what verses are you at work on now? Your father has told me that they have made you somewhat restive and thoughtful. If it is a gloss, I know something about the subject and would like very much to hear it; if the verses are for a literary competition, your grace should try to win second place; first is always won through favor or because of the high estate of the person, second is won because of pure justice, and by this calculation third becomes second, and first becomes third, in the manner of the degrees offered by universities; but, even so, being called first carries with it great celebrity.”

“So far,” said Don Lorenzo to himself, “I can’t call you crazy; let’s move on.”

And to Don Quixote he said:

“It seems to me that your grace has spent time in school: what sciences have you studied?”

“The science of knight errantry,” responded Don Quixote, “which is as good as poetry, and perhaps even a little better.”

“I don’t know that science,” replied Don Lorenzo. “I haven’t heard of it until now.”

“It is a science,” replied Don Quixote, “that contains all or most of the sciences in the world, because the man who professes it must be a jurist and know the laws of distributive and commutative justice so that he may give to each person what is his and what he ought to have; he must be a theologian so that he may know how to explain the Christian law he professes, clearly and distinctly, no matter where he is asked to do so; he must be a physician, and principally an herbalist, so that he may know, in the midst of wastelands and deserts, the herbs that have the virtue to heal wounds, for the knight errant cannot always go looking for someone to heal him; he must be an astrologer, so that he can tell by the stars how many hours of the night have passed, and in what part and climate of the world he finds himself; he must