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of taking four-or five-hour siestas in the summer, to respond to her great kindness he would attempt with all his might not to sleep even one that day and would obey her command, and then he left. The duke issued new orders that Don Quixote was to be treated as a knight errant, without deviating in the slightest from the manner in which it has been recounted that knights of old were treated.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Regarding the delightful conversation that the duchess and her ladies had with Sancho Panza, one that is worthy of being read and remembered

Well, the history recounts that Sancho did not sleep that day’s siesta but kept his word and came as requested to see the duchess, who derived so much pleasure from listening to him that she had him sit next to her on a low seat, although Sancho, being well-bred, did not wish to sit, but the duchess told him to sit as a governor and speak as a squire, since for both he deserved the ivory seat of El Cid Ruy Díaz Campeador.1

Sancho shrugged, obeyed, and sat down, and all the maidens and duennas of the duchess gathered round attentively, in great silence, to hear what he would say; but the duchess was the one who spoke first, saying:

“Now that we are alone, where no one can hear us, I should like you, Señor Governor, to resolve certain doubts I have, which have their origin in the history of the great Don Quixote that has already been published; one of these doubts is that, since our good Sancho never saw Dulcinea, I mean Señora Dulcinea of Toboso, and did not bring her the letter from Señor Don Quixote because it was left in the notebook in the Sierra Morena, how did he dare invent her response and say that he found her winnowing grain? This was nothing but a deception and a lie, so harmful to the good name of the peerless Dulcinea, and so inappropriate to the character and fidelity of good squires.”

At these words, without saying a single one in response, Sancho got up from the seat, and with silent steps, his body bent, his finger to his lips, he walked around the room lifting all the hangings, and then, when he had done this, he sat down again and said:

“Now that I have seen, Señora, that nobody is hiding and listening to us, except for those present, without fear or sudden fright I’ll answer what you have asked me, and anything else you may ask me, and the first thing I’ll say is that I believe my master, Don Quixote, is completely crazy, even though sometimes he says things that in my opinion, and in the opinion of everybody who hears him, are so intelligent and well-reasoned that Satan himself couldn’t say them better; but even so, truly and without any scruples, it’s clear to me that he’s a fool. And because I have this idea in mind, I can dare to make him believe anything, even if it makes no sense, like that reply to his letter, or something that happened six or eight days ago that isn’t in the history yet, I mean the enchantment of Señora Doña Dulcinea, because I’ve made him think she’s enchanted, and that’s as true as a fairy tale.”

The duchess asked him to tell her about the enchantment, or deception, and Sancho recounted everything just as it had occurred, from which his listeners derived no small pleasure; and continuing their conversation, the duchess said:

“From what our good Sancho has told me, a certain scruple has leaped into my soul, and a certain whisper reaches my ears, saying:

‘Since Don Quixote of La Mancha is a madman, a fool, and a simpleton, and Sancho Panza his squire knows this and still serves him, and follows him, and believes his hollow promises, there can be no doubt that he is more of a madman and a dimwit than his master; and this being the case, and it is, it will not be to your credit, Señora Duchess, if you give this Sancho Panza an ínsula to govern, because if a man cannot govern himself, how will he govern others?’”

“By God, Señora,” said Sancho, “that scruple of yours is just what I expected; but your grace should tell it to speak clearly, or however it wants to, because I know it’s telling the truth; if I were a clever man, I