Young Folks Treasury Volume 3 (of 12) - Hamilton Wright Mabie (classic books to read .txt) 📗

with candles burning all round it. Master Peter got inside in order to move the puppets, and a boy standing in front explained what was going on.

The story that was acted by the puppets was that of a certain Don Gayferos, who rescued his wife Melisendra from captivity by the Moors in the city of Saragossa. Melisendra was imprisoned in the castle, and the story goes that Don Gayferos, when riding past, in his search, spied her on the balcony. Melisendra, with the help of a rope, lets herself down to her husband, mounts behind him, and the two gallop away from the city. But Melisendra's flight has been noticed, and the city bells ring an alarm. The Moors rush out like angry wasps, start in pursuit, and the capture and death of Don Gayferos and Melisendra seem certain.

Don Quixote listened and looked with growing excitement and anger, but when he saw the Moors gallop in pursuit and about to close on Don Gayferos and Melisendra, he could keep quiet no longer. Starting up, "It shall never be said," cried he, "that in my presence I suffered such a wrong to be done to so famous a knight as Don Gayferos. Stop your unjust pursuit, ye base rascals! Stop! or prepare to meet me in battle."

Then, drawing his sword, with one spring he fell with fury on the Moors, hacking some in pieces, beheading others, and sending the rest flying into every corner. And had not Master Peter ducked and squatted down on the ground behind part of the show, Don Quixote would certainly have chopped off his head also.

"Hold! hold, sir!" cried Master Peter, "for mercy's sake, hold! These are not real Moors. You will ruin me if you destroy my show."

But Don Quixote paid not the slightest heed. He went on slashing and hacking till the whole show was a wreck. Everybody ran to get out of harm's way, and the ape scampered, chattering, on to the roof of the house. Sancho himself quaked with fear, for he had never before seen his master in such a fury.

All the puppet Moors being now cut to pieces, Don Quixote became calmer, saying aloud, "How miserable had been the fate of poor Don Gayferos and Melisendra his wife if I had not been in time to save them from those infidel Moors! Long live knight-errantry!"

"Ay, ay," moaned Master Peter in a doleful voice, "it may live long enough. As for me, I may as well die, for I am a ruined man and a beggar now."

Sancho Panza took pity on the showman.

"Come, come! Master Peter," said he, "don't cry. Don't be cast down. My master will pay you when he comes to know that he has done you an injury."

"Truly," said Peter, "if his honor will pay for my puppets.'ll ask no more."

"How!" cried Don Quixote. "I do not see that I have injured you, good Master Peter."

"Not injured me!" cried Master Peter. "Do but look at those figures lying there, all hacked to bits."

"Well," said Don Quixote, "now I know for certain a truth I have suspected before, that those accursed enchanters do nothing but put before my eyes things as they are, and then presently after change them as they please. Really and truly gentlemen, I vow and protest that all that was acted here seemed to me to be real. I could not contain my fury, and I acted as I thought was my duty. But if Master Peter will tell me the value of the figures, I will pay for them all."

"Heaven bless your worship!" whined Master Peter. But had Don Quixote known that this same Master Peter was the very man who stole Sancho Panza's ass, perhaps he might have paid him in another way.


VII

THE BATTLE WITH THE BULLS; THE FIGHT WITH THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE MOON; AND HOW DON QUIXOTE DIED


Soon after this, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode forth in search of other adventures.

They had ridden no great way when they happened upon some young people who had gaily dressed themselves as shepherds and shepherdesses, and were having a picnic in the woods. These people invited Don Quixote and Sancho to join their feast.

When they had eaten and drunk, the Knight rose, and said that there was no sin worse than that of ingratitude, and that to show how grateful he was for the kindness that had been shown to him and to Sancho, he had only one means in his power.

"Therefore," said he, "I will maintain for two whole days, in the middle of this high road leading to Saragossa, that these ladies here, disguised as shepherdesses, are the most beautiful damsels in the world, except only the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the mistress of my heart."

So, mounting "Rozinante" he rode into the middle of the highway and there took his stand, ready to challenge all comers. He had sat there no long time when there appeared on the road coming towards him a number of riders, some with spears in their hands, all riding very fast and close together. In front of them thundered a drove of wild bulls, bellowing and tossing their horns. At once all the shepherds and the shepherdesses ran behind trees, but Don Quixote sat bravely where he was.

When the horsemen came near, "Get out of the way!" bawled one of them. "Stand clear, or these bulls will have you in pieces in no time."

"Halt, scoundrels!" roared the Knight. "What are bulls to Don Quixote de la Mancha, if they were the fiercest that ever lived? Stop, hangdogs!"

But the herdsmen had no time to answer, nor Don Quixote to get out of the way had he wanted to do so, for before any one knew what was happening, the bulls had run right over him and "Rozinante," leaving them and Sancho and "Dapple," his ass, stunned and bruised, rolling in the dust.

As soon as Don Quixote came to his senses he got up in great haste, stumbling here and falling there, and began to run after the herd.

"Stop, you scoundrels!" he bawled. "Stop! It is a single knight that defies you."

But no one took the least notice of him, and he sat sadly down on the road, waiting till Sancho brought "Rozinante" to him. Then master and man went on their way, Don Quixote sore ashamed of his defeat, hurt as much in mind as in body.

That evening they dismounted at the door of an inn, and put up "Rozinante" and "Dapple" in the stable. Sancho asked the landlord what he could give them for supper.

"Why," said the man, "you may have anything you choose to call for. The inn can provide fowls of the air, birds of the earth, and fishes of the sea."

"There's no need for all that," said Sancho. "If you roast a couple of chickens it will be enough, for my master eats but little, and for myself, I have no great appetite."

"Chickens?" said the host. "I am sorry I have no chickens just now. The hawks have killed them all."

"Well, then, roast us a pullet, if it be tender."

"A pullet? Well, now, that is unlucky. I sent away fifty to the market only yesterday. But, putting pullets aside, ask for anything you like."

"Why, then," said Sancho, pondering, "let us have some veal, or a bit of kid."

"Sorry sir, we are just out of veal and kid also. Next week we shall have enough and to spare."

"That helps us nicely," said Sancho. "But at any rate, let us have some eggs and bacon."

"Eggs!" cried the landlord. "Now didn't I tell him I had no hens or pullets, and how then can I have eggs? No, no! Ask for anything you please in the way of dainties, but don't ask for hens."

"Body o' me!" said Sancho, "let us have something. Tell me what you have, and have done."

"Well, what I really and truly have is a pair of cow-heels that look like calves'-feet, or a pair of calves'-feet that look like cow-heels. You can have that and some bacon."

"They are mine," cried Sancho. "I don't care whether they are feet or heels."

And as Don Quixote had supper with some other guests who carried with them their own cook and their own larder, Sancho and the landlord supped well on the cow-heels.

Some days after this, the Knight and his squire reached Barcelona. Neither of them had ever before been near the sea, and the galleys that they saw in the distance being rowed about in the bay sorely puzzled Sancho, who thought that the oars were their legs, and that they must be some strange kind of beast.

Now, one morning, when Don Quixote rode out, fully armed as usual, to take the air on the seashore, he saw a knight riding towards him, armed like himself, and having a bright moon painted on his shield. As soon as this knight came within hearing he halted, and in a loud voice called out:

"Illustrious Don Quixote de la Mancha, I am the Knight of the White Moon, of whose doings you may have heard. I am come to fight with you and to make you own that the Lady of my Heart, whoever she may be, is more beautiful by far than the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. Which truth, if you will confess, I will not slay you. And if we fight, and I should conquer you, then I ask no more than that you shall go to your own home, and for the space of one year give up carrying arms or searching for adventures. But if you should conquer me, then my head shall be at your disposal, my horse and arms shall be your spoils, and the fame of my deeds shall be yours. Consider what I say, and let your answer be quick."

Don Quixote was amazed at hearing these words.

"Knight of the White Moon," said he very solemnly, "the fame of whose doings has not yet come to my ears, I dare swear that thou hast never seen the beautiful Dulcinea, for hadst thou ever viewed her, thou wouldst have been careful not to make this challenge. The sight of her would have made thee know that there never has been, nor can be, beauty to match hers. And therefore, without giving thee the lie, I only tell thee thou art mistaken. I accept your challenge, on your conditions, and at once, except that I am content with the fame of my own deeds, and want not yours. Choose then whichever side of the field you please, and let us set to."

The two knights then turned their horses to take ground for their charge, but at this moment up rode, with some friends, the Governor of the city of Barcelona, who knew Don Quixote, and who fancied that perhaps this was some new trick being played on him. The Governor, seeing both knights ready to turn for their charge, asked the Knight of the White Moon what was the cause of the combat, and having heard his answer, could not believe that the affair was not a joke, and so stood aside.

Instantly the two knights charged at top speed. But the horse of the Knight of the White Moon was by far the bigger and heavier and faster, and he came with such a shock into poor old "Rozinante" that Don Quixote and his