Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [408]
And now a joyful and smiling dawn quickly approached; the flowers of the fields raised their heads and stood erect, and the liquid crystal of the streams, murmuring over smooth white and gray pebbles, hurried to pay tribute to the rivers that awaited them. The joyful earth, the bright sky, the clear air, the serene light, together and separately gave clear indications that the day that came treading on the skirts of the dawn would be calm and bright. And the duke and duchess, satisfied with their hunt and with having achieved their ends so cleverly and successfully, returned to their castle, intending to continue with their deceptions, because for them, there really was nothing that gave them greater pleasure.
CHAPTER XXXVI
Which recounts the strange and unimaginable adventure of the Dolorous Duenna, also known as the Countess Trifaldi, as well as a letter that Sancho Panza wrote to his wife, Teresa Panza
The duke had a steward, a man with a comic and inventive turn of mind, who had acted the part of Merlin, prepared all the devices of the previous adventure, composed the verses, and arranged for a page to play Dulcinea. Then, with the intervention of his master and mistress, he devised another adventure, with the most diverting and strangest contrivances anyone could imagine.
The following day, the duchess asked Sancho if he had begun the task of the penance he was obliged to perform in order to disenchant Dulcinea. He said yes, that very night he had given himself five lashes. The duchess asked what implement he had used to administer them. He responded that he had used his hand.
“That,” replied the duchess, “is more like slapping than flogging. It seems to me that the wise Merlin will not be satisfied with so much gentleness, and that it will be necessary for our good Sancho to use a whip with metal points or a cat-o’-nine-tails, something he can feel, because a good teacher never spares the rod, and the freedom of so great a lady as Dulcinea cannot be gotten cheaply and at so little cost; and be advised, Sancho, that works of charity performed in a lukewarm and halfhearted way have no merit and are worth nothing.”1
To which Sancho responded:
“Your ladyship, give me the right kind of whip or braided rope, and I’ll hit myself with it as long as it doesn’t hurt too much; because your grace should know that even though I’m a peasant, my flesh is more like cotton than esparto grass, and it wouldn’t be right if I did myself harm for somebody else’s benefit.”
“Let it be all for the best,” responded the duchess. “Tomorrow I’ll give you a whip that will be perfect for you and suit the tenderness of your flesh as if the two were sisters.”
To which Sancho said:
“Señora of my soul, your highness should know that I’ve written a letter to my wife, Teresa Panza, telling her everything that’s happened to me since I left her side; it’s here in my shirt, and all that’s missing is the address; I’d like your intelligence to read it, because it seems to me it suits a governor, I mean, the way governors ought to write.”
“Who dictated it?” asked the duchess.
“Who else would dictate it but me, sinner that I am?” responded Sancho.
“And did you write it?” said the duchess.
“I couldn’t do that,” responded Sancho, “because I don’t know how to read or write, though I can sign my name.”
“Let’s see it,” said the duchess. “I’m sure that in it you display the nature and quality of your wit.”
Sancho took an open letter from inside his shirt, and when he gave it to the duchess, she saw that this is what it said:
A LETTER FROM SANCHO PANZA TO TERESA PANZA, HIS WIFE
If they gave me a good whipping, at least I rode a nice donkey; 2 if I have a good governorship, it cost me a good whipping. You won’t understand this now, my Teresa, but someday you will. You should know, Teresa, that I’ve decided you should go around in a carriage, because that