Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [531]
“I believe it,” said Sancho, “because all this about lovers dying makes me laugh: they can say it easily enough, but doing it is a story only Judas would believe.”
While they were having this conversation, the musician, singer, and poet, who had sung the two stanzas already described, came in, and making a deep bow to Don Quixote, he said:
“Señor Knight, your grace should consider and count me in the number of your greatest admirers, for I have been devoted to you for some time now, as much for your fame as for your exploits.”
Don Quixote responded:
“Your grace should tell me who you are so that my courtesy may respond to your merits.”
The youth responded that he was the musician and panegyrist of the previous night.
“Certainly,” replied Don Quixote, “your grace has an excellent voice, but what you sang did not seem very appropriate to me. What do stanzas by Garcilaso have to do with the death of this lady?”
“Your grace should not be surprised at that,” responded the musician, “for among the untutored poets of our day, the custom is for each to write however he wishes and steal from whomever he wishes regardless of whether or not it suits his intention, and there is no foolishness, either sung or written, that is not attributed to poetic license.”
Don Quixote wished to respond but was prevented from doing so by the duke and duchess, who came in to see him, and they had a long and pleasant conversation in which Sancho said so many amusing things and so many clever things that the duke and duchess were once again astounded by his simplicity and his shrewdness. Don Quixote asked them to give him permission to depart that very day, because it is more seemly for defeated knights like him to sleep in pigsties rather than in royal palaces. They gave it willingly, and the duchess asked if Altisidora remained in his good graces. He responded:
“Señora, your ladyship should know that all the problems afflicting this maiden are born of idleness, and the remedy lies in honest and constant labor. She has told me that they use lace trimmings in hell, and since she must know how to make them, she should never let them out of her hands; if she is occupied in moving the bobbins, the image or images of what she desires will not move through her imagination, and this is the truth, this is my opinion, and this is my advice.”
“And mine,” added Sancho, “for I’ve never seen in all my life a lace-maker who’s died for love; maidens who are occupied think more about finishing their tasks than about love. At least that’s true for me, because when I’m busy digging I never think about my better half, I mean my Teresa Panza, and I love her more than my eyelashes.”
“Well said, Sancho,” said the duchess, “and from now on I shall keep my Altisidora busy doing needlework, which she does extremely well.”
“There’s no reason, Señora,” responded Altisidora, “to make use of this remedy, for consideration of the cruelties this wicked vagrant has inflicted on me will wipe him from my memory with no need for other measures. And with the permission of your highness, I should like to leave now in order not to have before my eyes not only his sorrowful face, but his hideous and hateful features.”
“That seems to me,” said the duke, “like the old saying:
Because the one who says insults
is very close to forgiving.”2
Altisidora made a show of drying her tears with a handkerchief, and after curtsying to her master and mistress, she left the room.
“Go in peace,” said Sancho, “poor maiden, go in peace, I mean, you have bad luck because you fell in love with a soul of esparto grass and a heart of oak. By my faith, if you’d fallen in love with me, you’d be singing a different tune!”
The conversation came to an end, and Don Quixote dressed, dined with the duke and duchess, and departed that afternoon.
CHAPTER LXXI
What befell Don Quixote and his