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“I do not believe,” Don Quixote responded, “that those squires ever received wages, but only favors. And if I have mentioned you in the last will and testament that I left in my house, it was because of what might happen, for I do not yet know the standing of chivalry in these our calamitous times, and I should not want my soul to suffer in the next world on account of trivial details. Because I want you to know, Sancho, that there is no profession more dangerous than that of adventuring knight.”

“That’s true,” said Sancho, “for just the noise of the fulling hammers could upset and disturb the heart of an adventuring knight errant as valiant as your grace. But you can be sure that from now on my lips will not open to joke about your grace’s affairs, but only to honor you as my master and natural lord.”

“In that way,” replied Don Quixote, “you will live long on the face of the earth, for after parents, masters must be respected as if they were progenitors.”

CHAPTER XXI

Which relates the high adventure and rich prize of the helmet of Mambrino, as well as other things that befell our invincible knight

At this point a light rain began to fall, and Sancho would have liked for them to take shelter in the fulling mill, but Don Quixote had acquired such an aversion to it because of the insufferable deception that under no circumstances did he wish to go inside, and so, turning to the right, they came upon another road similar to the one they had followed on the previous day.

A short while later, Don Quixote caught sight of a man riding toward them and wearing on his head something that glistened as if it were made of gold, and no sooner had he seen him than he turned to Sancho and said:

“It seems to me, Sancho, that there is no proverb that is not true, because all of them are judgments based on experience, the mother of all knowledge, in particular the one that says: ‘One door closes and another opens.’ I say this because if last night fortune closed the door on what we were seeking, deceiving us with fulling hammers, now she opens wide another that will lead to a better and truer adventure; if I do not succeed in going through this door, the fault will be mine, and I shall not be able to blame my ignorance of fulling hammers or the dark of night. I say this because, unless I am mistaken, coming toward us is a man who wears on his head the helmet of Mambrino,1 concerning which, as you well know, I have made a vow.”

“Your grace, be careful what you say, and more careful what you do,” said Sancho, “for you wouldn’t want this to be more fulling hammers that end up hammering and battering our senses.”

“The devil take the man!” replied Don Quixote. “What does a helmet have to do with fulling hammers?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” responded Sancho, “but by my faith, if I could talk as much as I used to, maybe I could say some things that would make your grace see that you were mistaken in what you said.”

“How can I be mistaken in what I say, you doubting traitor?” said Don Quixote. “Tell me, do you not see that knight coming toward us, mounted on a dappled gray and wearing on his head a helmet of gold?”

“What I see and can make out,” responded Sancho, “is just a man riding a donkey that’s gray like mine, and wearing something shiny on his head.”

“Well, that is the helmet of Mambrino,” said Don Quixote. “Move aside and let me face him alone; you will see that without speaking a word so as not to waste time, I shall bring this adventure to a conclusion and acquire the helmet I have so long desired.”

“I’ll be sure to move aside,” replied Sancho, “but may it please God,” he continued, “that it turns out to be oregano and not fulling hammers.”2

“I have already told you, brother, not to mention or even think about mentioning those fulling hammers to me,” said Don Quixote, “or I swear…I shall say no more, but I shall hammer and full your soul.”

Sancho fell silent, fearful his master might carry out the vow, as roundly