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By Root 893 0

know mathematics, because at every step he will have need of them; and leaving aside the fact that he must be adorned with all the theological and cardinal virtues, and descending to the small details, I say that he must know how to swim as well as they say the fishman Nicolás, or Nicolao,2 could swim; he must know how to shoe a horse and repair a saddle and bridle; and returning to what was said before, he must keep his faith in God and in his lady; he must be chaste in his thoughts, honest in his words, liberal in his actions, valiant in his deeds, long-suffering in his afflictions, charitable with those in need, and, finally, an upholder of the truth, even if it costs him his life to defend it. Of all these great and trivial parts a good knight errant is composed, and so your grace may judge, Señor Don Lorenzo, if the science learned by the knight who studies and professes it is a shallow one, and if it can be compared to the noblest that are taught in colleges and schools.”

“If this is true,” replied Don Lorenzo, “I say that this science surpasses all of them.”

“What do you mean, if this is true?” responded Don Quixote.

“What I mean to say,” said Don Lorenzo, “is that I doubt there have ever been knights errant, or that there are any now, who are adorned with so many virtues.”

“I have often said what I repeat now,” responded Don Quixote. “Most of the people in the world are of the opinion that there never have been knights errant, and it seems to me that if heaven does not miraculously reveal to them the truth that they did exist and do exist now, any effort I make must be in vain, as experience has so often shown me, and so I do not wish to take the time now to free your grace from the error you share with many others; what I intend to do is pray that heaven frees you from it, and allows you to understand how beneficial and necessary knights errant were to the world in the past, and how advantageous they could be in the present if they were still in use, but what triumphs now, because of people’s sins, are sloth, idleness, gluttony, and self-indulgence.”

“Our guest has gotten away from us,” said Don Lorenzo to himself, “but even so, he is a gallant madman, and I would be a weak-minded fool if I didn’t think so.”

Here their conversation came to an end because they were called to the table. Don Diego asked his son what he had deduced regarding their guest’s wits, to which he responded:

“Not all the physicians and notaries in the world could make a final accounting of his madness: he is a combination madman who has many lucid intervals.”

They went in to eat, and the meal was just the kind that Don Diego had declared on the road that he usually provided for his guests: pure, abundant, and delicious; but what pleased Don Quixote the most was the marvelous silence that reigned throughout the house, which seemed like a Carthusian monastery. And so when the tablecloths had been removed, and thanks given to God, and water poured over hands, Don Quixote most earnestly asked Don Lorenzo to recite his verses for the literary competition, to which he responded that in order not to seem like one of those poets who refuse when they are asked to recite their verses and spew them forth when they aren’t asked…

“…I’ll recite my gloss, for which I don’t expect any prize at all; I’ve written it only to exercise my wits.”

“A wise friend of mine,” responded Don Quixote, “was of the opinion that nobody ought to tire of glossing verses, and the reason, he said, was that the gloss never could approach the text, and that many or most times the gloss strayed from the intention and purpose of what the text proposed; moreover, the laws of the gloss were too strict, for they did not allow questions, or he said or I shall say, or the making of verbs into nouns, or changing the significance, along with other restrictions and regulations that set limits for those who write glosses, as your grace must know.”

“Truly, Señor Don Quixote,” said Don Lorenzo, “I would like to catch your grace in some foolish mistake, and I can’t, because you slip