Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [94]
“Your grace should calm down; by God, I’m only joking.”
“Well, you may be joking, but I am not,”4 responded Don Quixote. “Come here, you merry man; do you think that if these were not fulling hammers but a dangerous adventure, I would not have displayed the courage needed to undertake and conclude it? Am I obliged, perchance, being, as I am, a knight, to recognize and differentiate sounds, and know which are fulling hammers and which are not? Moreover, it well might be, as is the case, that I have never seen them in my life, though you must have, being the lowborn peasant you are, and reared and born among them. If not, pretend that these six fulling hammers are six giants, and turn them on me one by one, or all together, and if I do not knock them all to the ground, you can mock me in any way you choose.”
“No more, Señor,” replied Sancho. “I confess that I have gone a little too far with my joking. But tell me, your grace, now that we’re at peace (and may God bring you as safe and sound through all the adventures you have as He has brought you through this one), wasn’t it laughable how frightened we were, and wouldn’t it make a good story? At least, how frightened I was, for I already know that your grace doesn’t know what fright is or understand the meaning of fear or terror.”
“I do not deny,” responded Don Quixote, “that what happened to us is deserving of laughter, but it does not deserve to be told, for not all persons are wise enough to put things in their proper place.”
“At least,” responded Sancho, “your grace knew how to place the lance, aiming for my head and hitting me on the back, thanks be to God and the care I took to move to the side. Well, well, it all comes out in the end, for I’ve heard people say: ‘The one who hurts you is the one who loves you,’ and I’ve also heard that great gentlemen, after speaking harshly to a servant, give him breeches, though I don’t know what they give after beating him with a lance, unless knights errant give ínsulas after a beating, or kingdoms on dry land.”
“The dice may fall,” said Don Quixote, “so that everything you say turns out to be true; forgive what happened, for you are clever and know that first impulses are not ours to control, but be advised of one thing: from now on you are to refrain and abstain from speaking too much to me, for in all the books of chivalry I have read, which are infinite in number, I have never found any squire who talks as much with his master as you do with yours. In truth I consider it a great fault, both on your part and on mine: on yours, because you do not have a high opinion of me; on mine, because I do not allow a higher opinion. For instance, Gandalín, the squire of Amadís of Gaul, became count of Ínsula Firme, yet one reads of him that he always spoke to his master with hat in hand, bending his head and bowing his body, more turquesco.5 And what shall we say of Gasabal, the squire of Don Galaor, who was so silent that in order to declare to us the excellence of his wondrous silence, his name is mentioned only once in the course of that history, as great as it is true? From everything I have said you must infer, Sancho, that it is necessary to distinguish between master and minion, gentleman and servant, knight and squire. Therefore, from this day forward, we must treat each other with more respect and refrain from mockery, because no matter why I lose my temper with you, it will be bad for the pitcher.6 The rewards and benefits that I have promised you will come in time, and if they do not, your wages, at least, will not be lost, as I have already told you.”
“Everything your grace says is fine,” said Sancho. “But I’d like to know, if the time for rewards happens not to come and it’s necessary to fall back on wages, how much the squire of a knight errant