Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [432]
“It isn’t a joke, Señor,” replied Sancho, “because I heard him talking earlier, and it seemed as if the voice of Countess Trifaldi were sounding in my ears. All right: I’ll be quiet, but I’ll stay on the alert from now on to see if I can find anything else that will prove or disprove what I suspect.”
“That is what you must do, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “and keep me informed regarding everything you discover in this matter, and everything that happens to you in your governorship.”
At last, accompanied by a good number of people, Sancho set out, dressed in the style of a lettered man, and over that wearing a very wide coat of tawny camel’s hair and a cap of the same material, and riding a mule with short stirrups; behind him, by order of the duke, came the gray with new donkey’s trappings and a halter made of silk. From time to time Sancho turned his head to look at his jackass, in whose company he felt so content that he would not have traded places with the emperor of Germany.
When he took his leave of the duke and duchess, he kissed their hands and received the blessing of his master, who gave it to him in tears, and which Sancho received with sobs.
Kind reader, let the good Sancho go in peace and good fortune, and expect two bushels of laughter when you learn how he behaved in office, and in the meantime wait and find out what happened to his master that night; and if you do not laugh at this, at least you will spread your lips wide in a monkey grin, because those things that befall Don Quixote have to be celebrated either with astonishment or with laughter.
It is recounted that as soon as Sancho left, Don Quixote felt lonely for him, and if it had been possible for him to revoke the squire’s mandate and take the governorship away from him, his master would have done so. The duchess perceived his melancholy and asked him why he was sad, for if it was because of Sancho’s absence, there were squires, duennas, and maidens in her house who would serve him to his complete satisfaction.
“It is true, Señora,” responded Don Quixote, “that I feel the absence of Sancho, but this is not the principal reason that makes me seem sad; of the many offers Your Excellency has made I accept and choose only the goodwill with which they have been proffered; for the rest, I implore Your Excellency that in my own chamber you allow and permit me to be the only one who serves me.”
“In truth,” said the duchess, “Señor Don Quixote, that cannot be: you will be served by four of my maidens who are as beautiful as flowers.”
“As far as I am concerned,” responded Don Quixote, “they will be not like flowers but like thorns piercing my soul. They will no more enter my chamber, or anything like that, than fly. If your highness wishes to proceed to grant me favors I do not deserve, allow me to accept them alone and to serve myself behind my chamber doors; for I place a wall between my desires and my modesty, and I do not wish to lose this custom because of the liberality your highness desires to show me. In short, I would rather sleep in my clothes than allow anyone to undress me.”
“Enough, enough, Señor Don Quixote,” replied the duchess. “I can tell you that I shall give orders that not even a fly can enter your room, much less a maiden; on no account am I the person to interfere with the propriety of Señor Don Quixote, for it has become clear to me that the most outstanding of his many virtues is modesty. Your grace may undress and dress by yourself, and in your own fashion, however and whenever you wish; there will be none to impede you, for in your chamber you will find the containers required for the needs of one who sleeps with a closed door, so that not even the necessities of nature will oblige you to open it. May the great Dulcinea of Toboso live for a thousand centuries, and may her name be known throughout the world, for she deserved to be the beloved of so valiant and chaste a knight, and