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It was pulled by four slow oxen draped in black; a great blazing wax torch was tied to each of their horns, and on the cart was a high seat on which a venerable old man was sitting, his beard whiter than the snow, and so long it fell below his waist; he wore a long robe of black buckram, for since the cart was filled with infinite lights, one could clearly see and discern everything it carried. It was driven by two hideous demons dressed in the same buckram, with faces so ugly that Sancho, having seen them once, closed his eyes so as not to see them again. And so the cart reached them, and the venerable old man got up from his high seat, and as he stood there he gave a great shout, saying:

“I am the wise Lirgandeo.”5

And the cart drove on, and he did not say another word. Behind this one came another cart of the same kind, carrying another old man enthroned, and he, stopping the cart, in a voice no less grave than the other’s, said:

“I am the wise Alquife, the great friend of Urganda the Unknown.”

And the cart passed on.

Then, in the same manner, another cart arrived, but the one seated on the throne was not an ancient like the others, but a strong, robust, evil-looking man, and as he arrived he rose to his feet, just like the others, and said in a voice that was hoarser and more fiendish:

“I am the enchanter Arcalaus, the mortal enemy of Amadís of Gaul and all his kin.”

And he moved on. Not far away from there the three carts halted, and the maddening sound of their wheels stopped, and then something else was heard, not a noise, but the sound made by soft and harmonious music, which made Sancho very happy, and which he took as a good omen; and so, he said to the duchess, from whose side he had moved not one iota:

“Señora, where there is music, there can be nothing bad.”

“Nor where there are lights and brightness,” responded the duchess.

To which Sancho replied:

“A flame gives light, and bonfires give brightness, and if we go near them they can burn us, but music is always a sign of cheer and rejoicing.”

“We shall see,” said Don Quixote, who had heard everything.

And he was correct, as the following chapter shows.

CHAPTER XXXV

In which the information that Don Quixote received regarding the disenchantment of Dulcinea continues, along with other remarkable events

To the rhythm of the pleasant music, they saw coming toward them the kind of cart that is called triumphal, pulled by six gray mules caparisoned in white linen; on each of them rode a penitent of light,1 also dressed in white and holding a large burning wax torch in his hand. The cart was two or even three times larger than the previous ones, and the sides and front were occupied by twelve other penitents as white as snow, all with their burning torches, a sight that caused both wonder and terror; on a raised throne sat a nymph draped in a thousand veils of silver cloth, and on all of them infinite numbers of gold sequins were sparkling, making her seem if not richly, then at least colorfully dressed. Her face was covered by transparent and delicate sendal,2 so that despite its folds the very beautiful face of a maiden was revealed, and the many lights made it possible to discern her beauty and her age, which appeared to be no more than twenty and no less than seventeen.

Next to her came a figure dressed in the kind of long robe that is called flowing, with a black veil covering the head; as soon as the cart came face-to-face with the duke and duchess and Don Quixote, the music of the flageolets stopped, followed by the music of the harps and lutes that were playing in the cart; the figure in the robe stood and, pulling the robe open and removing the veil, revealed the fleshless, hideous figure of Death itself, causing grief in Don Quixote and dismay in Sancho Panza, while the duke and duchess adopted a semblance of fear. This living Death stood and, in a drowsy voice and with a tongue not fully awake, said:

“I am Merlin, who, the histories say,

was sired and fathered