Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (143 page)

“Señores, this is my daughter, more unfortunate in what has happened to her than in her name.
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She is called Ana Félix, and her surname is Ricote, and she is as famous for her beauty as she is for my wealth. I left my country to look in foreign lands for a place that would welcome and shelter us, and having found it in Germany, I came back dressed as a pilgrim, in the company of other Germans, to find my daughter and retrieve the great riches I left hidden here. I did not find my daughter but I did find my treasure, which I have with me, and now, through the strange twist of fate that you have witnessed, I have found the treasure that enriches me most, which is my beloved daughter. If in the integrity of your justice our small guilt, and her tears and mine, can open the doors to mercy, then show us mercy, for we never thought of of
fending you, nor did we ever agree in any way with the intentions of our people, who have so justly been expelled.”

Then Sancho said:

“I know Ricote very well, and I know that what he says about Ana Félix being his daughter is true; as for this other business of coming and going and having good or bad intentions, I have nothing to say about that.”

Everyone present was astonished at this strange matter, and the admiral general said:

“Drop by drop, your tears will not permit me to keep my vow; live, beautiful Ana Félix, the years of life that heaven has granted you, and let the insolent and rash men who committed the crime bear the penalty.”

And then he ordered the two Turks who had killed his two soldiers hung from the lateen yard, but the viceroy begged him very earnestly not to hang them, for theirs was more a crime of madness than of audacity. The admiral general did as the viceroy requested, for revenge in cold blood is not easily carried out. Then they attempted to devise a plan to free Don Gaspar Gregorio from danger; to that end, Ricote offered the more than two thousand
ducados
he had in pearls and precious stones. They thought of many schemes, but none was as good as the one proposed by the Spanish renegade we have mentioned, who offered to return to Algiers in a small vessel, with some six rowers’ benches, manned by Christian oarsmen, because he knew where, how, and when he could and should disembark, and by the same token he knew the house where Don Gaspar was being kept. The admiral general and the viceroy doubted if they could trust the renegade or be certain about the safety of the Christians who would man the oars, but Ana Félix vouched for him, and her father Ricote said he would pay the ransom for the Christians if they happened to be captured.

Having decided, then, on this plan, the viceroy disembarked, and Don Antonio Moreno took the Morisca and her father home with him, the viceroy having charged him to welcome and treat them as hospitably as possible, and he himself offering whatever was in his house for their entertainment, for Ana Félix’s beauty had inspired great benevolence and charity in his heart.

CHAPTER LXIV

The history recounts that the wife of Don Antonio Moreno was very pleased to see Ana Félix in her house. She welcomed her with great amiability, as charmed by her beauty as by her intelligence, for the Morisca was exceptionally endowed with both, and all the people in the city, as if summoned by a pealing bell, came to see her.

Don Quixote told Don Antonio that the plan they had devised to free Don Gaspar Gregorio was not a good one because it was more dangerous than feasible, and it would be better to put him ashore in Barbary with his arms and his horse, and he would set the young man free despite the entire host of Moors, just as Don Gaiferos had done for his wife, Melisendra.

“Your grace should remember,” said Sancho when he heard this, “that Señor Don Gaiferos rescued his wife on dry land and took her to France on dry land, but here, if we do release Don Gregorio, we have no way to bring him to Spain because there’s an ocean in the middle.”

“There is a remedy for everything except death,” responded Don Quixote, “for if we have a ship along the coast, we can embark on that even if the whole world attempts to prevent it.”

“Your grace paints a very nice picture and makes it seem very easy,” said Sancho, “but there’s many a slip ’tween cup and lip, and I’ll depend on the renegade, who looks to me like an honest and good-hearted man.”

Don Antonio said that if the renegade failed in the enterprise, he would arrange for the great Don Quixote to go to Barbary.

Two days later, the renegade sailed in a light vessel with six oars on
each side, manned by a very valiant crew of oarsmen, and two days after that the galleys departed for the Levant, the admiral general first having asked the viceroy to please keep him informed regarding the rescue of Don Gaspar Gregorio, and the matter of Ana Félix, and the viceroy having agreed.

One morning, when Don Quixote went out to ride along the shore armed and in his armor because, as he often said, they were his adornment and combat was his ease, and he was never without them, he saw a knight approaching in full armor, and on his shield was depicted a resplendent moon; and coming close enough to be heard, and addressing his words to Don Quixote, he cried out in a loud voice, saying:

“Renowned knight and never sufficiently praised Don Quixote of La Mancha, I am the Knight of the White Moon, whose extraordinary deeds perhaps have come to your attention; I am here to do battle with you and to test the strength of your mighty arms, obliging you to recognize and confess that my lady, whoever she may be, is incomparably more beautiful than your Dulcinea of Toboso; and if you confess this truth clearly and plainly, you will save yourself from death, and save me the trouble of killing you; and if you do battle and I conquer you, I want no other satisfaction than that you abandon your arms, abstain from seeking adventures, and withdraw and retire to your home for a period of one year, where you must live without laying a hand on your sword, in peaceful tranquility and profitable serenity, for such is required for the increase of your fortune and the salvation of your soul; and if you should conquer me, my life will be at your mercy, and my arms and horse will be yours, as spoils, and the fame of my deeds will be added to yours. Consider what you should do, and respond immediately, for I have only this day to settle this matter.”

Don Quixote was amazed and astonished, not only by the arrogance of the Knight of the White Moon, but by the cause for which he was challenging him, and with great calm and a severe bearing, he responded:

“Knight of the White Moon, whose deeds have not yet come to my attention, I should dare to swear that you have never seen the illustrious Dulcinea, for if you had, I know you would not attempt to undertake this enterprise, because the sight of her would cause you to accept this truth: there never has been nor can there ever be a beauty that compares to hers; and so, not saying that you lie, but only that you are not correct in what you propound, I accept your challenge with the conditions you
have mentioned, and I do so immediately, so that the one day you have set aside does not slip away; but I do not accept the condition that your deeds be added to my fame, because I do not know what they are or what kind they may be; I am content with mine, such as they are. Take, then, whichever part of the field you wish, and I shall do the same, and whomever God favors may St. Peter bless.”

People in the city who had seen the Knight of the White Moon told the viceroy that he was speaking with Don Quixote of La Mancha. The viceroy, believing it was probably a new adventure devised by Don Antonio Moreno or by some other gentleman of the city, immediately rode out to the shore with Don Antonio, accompanied by many other gentlemen, and they arrived just as Don Quixote was turning the reins of Rocinante in order to take the distance needed for his charge.

Seeing that the two knights were showing signs of engaging in combat, the viceroy placed himself between them, asking what reason moved them to so unexpected a battle. The Knight of the White Moon responded that it was a question of precedence in beauty, and briefly repeated the same words he had said to Don Quixote, and stated that the conditions of the challenge had been accepted by both parties. The viceroy approached Don Antonio and asked him quietly if he knew the identity of the Knight of the White Moon or if this was a trick they wanted to play on Don Quixote. Don Antonio responded that he did not know who the knight was or if the challenge was in jest or in earnest. The viceroy was perplexed by this reply, for he did not know if he should allow them to continue with the battle; however, unable to persuade himself that it was anything but a joke, he moved aside, saying:

“Señores, if the only remedy is to confess or die, and Señor Don Quixote is adamant, and the Knight of the White Moon is obdurate, then the matter is in the hands of God. Set to!”

The Knight of the White Moon thanked the viceroy with appropriate and courteous words for the permission he had granted them, and Don Quixote did the same, and commending himself with all his heart to heaven and to his Dulcinea—which was his custom at the beginning of the battles that presented themselves to him—he took a little more ground, because he saw that his adversary was doing the same, and without the playing of a trumpet or any other martial instrument that would signal to them to charge, they both turned their horses at the same time; since the mount of the Knight of the White Moon was faster, he reached Don Quixote when he had gone two-thirds of the way, meeting his adversary with such power and force that without touching him with his
lance—which he had raised, it seemed, intentionally—he toppled both Rocinante and Don Quixote in a dangerous fall. He rushed at him immediately, and putting his lance to Don Quixote’s visor, he said:

“You are vanquished, knight, and dead if you do not confess the conditions of our challenge.”

Don Quixote, battered and stunned, not raising his visor, and as if speaking from the tomb, said in a weak and feeble voice:

“Dulcinea of Toboso is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I am the most unfortunate knight on earth, and it is not right that my weakness should give the lie to this truth. Wield your lance, knight, and take my life, for you have already taken my honor.”

“That I certainly shall not do,” said the Knight of the White Moon. “Let the fame of Señora Dulcinea of Toboso’s beauty live in its entirety; let it live, I say, for the satisfaction I ask is that the great Don Quixote retire to his village for a year, or for as long as I shall determine, as we agreed before entering into this battle.”

All this was heard by the viceroy and Don Antonio, as well as by many others who were present, and they also heard Don Quixote respond that as long as he asked nothing that was to the detriment of Dulcinea, he would comply with all the rest like a true and honorable knight.

When this confession was made, the Knight of the White Moon turned his horse, bowed his head respectfully to the viceroy, and entered the city at a canter.

The viceroy ordered Don Antonio to go after him and learn without fail who he was. They picked up Don Quixote, uncovered his face, and found him pale and perspiring. Rocinante had been so badly hurt that he could not move. Sancho, utterly sad and utterly grief-stricken, did not know what to say or do: it seemed to him that the entire episode was a dream and everything that had happened a matter of enchantment. He saw his master defeated and obliged to not take up arms for a year; he imagined the light of his glorious deeds dimmed and the hopes of his latest promises to Sancho dissipated, as the wind dissipates smoke. He feared that Rocinante would be left crippled and his master’s bones dislocated, though it would be no misfortune if he had been made sane.
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Finally, the viceroy sent for a sedan chair and Don Quixote was carried back to the city, and the viceroy returned as well, desiring to know the identity of the Knight of the White Moon who had left Don Quixote in so terrible a state.

CHAPTER LXV

Don Antonio Moreno followed the Knight of the White Moon, who was also followed, even pursued, by a good number of boys, until he entered an inn inside the city. Don Antonio went in as well, desiring to meet him; a squire came out to greet him and remove his armor; the knight withdrew to a room on the ground floor, and Don Antonio went after him, for he could barely wait to find out who he might be. The Knight of the White Moon, seeing that this gentleman would not leave him alone, said:

“I know very well, Señor, why you have come: you want to know who I am, and since there is no reason not to tell you, while my servant removes my armor I shall tell you the truth of the matter, omitting nothing. Know then, Señor, that my name is Bachelor Sansón Carrasco; I am from the same village as Don Quixote of La Mancha, whose madness and foolishness move all of us who know him to pity; I have been one of those who pitied him most, and believing that his health depends on his remaining peacefully in his own village and in his own house, I devised a way to oblige him to do that, and so some three months ago I took to the road as a knight errant, calling myself the Knight of the Mirrors, and intending to do combat with him and defeat him without doing him harm, and setting as a condition of our combat that the vanquished would have to obey the victor; what I planned to ask of him, because I already considered him defeated, was that he return to his village and not leave it again for a year, for in that time he could be cured; but fate ordained otherwise, because he defeated me and toppled me from my horse, and so my idea did not succeed; he continued on his way, and I returned home, defeated, chagrined, and bruised from my fall, which was a dangerous one, yet not even this could diminish my desire to find him again and de-
feat him, as you have witnessed today. And since he is so punctilious in complying with the rules of knight errantry, he undoubtedly will comply with the conditions I have set, and keep his word. This, Señor, is what has happened, and I have nothing more to tell you, and I implore you not to reveal my identity or tell Don Quixote who I am, so that my good intentions can be put into effect and a man can regain his reason, for his is fine when free of the absurdities of chivalry.”