Just at that instant the landlord, who was standing at the gate of the inn, exclaimed, “Here comes a fine troop of guests; if they stop here we may say gaudeamus.”
“What are they?” said Cardenio.
“Four men,” said the landlord, “riding a la jineta, with lances and bucklers, and all with black veils, and with them there is a woman in white on a side-saddle, whose face is also veiled, and two attendants on foot.”
“Are they very near?” said the curate.
“So near,” answered the landlord, “that here they come.”
Hearing this Dorothea covered her face, and Cardenio retreated into Don Quixote’s room, and they hardly had time to do so before the whole party the host had described entered the inn, and the four that were on horseback, who were of highbred appearance and bearing, dismounted, and came forward to take down the woman who rode on the side-saddle, and one of them taking her in his arms placed her in a chair that stood at the entrance of the room where Cardenio had hidden himself. All this time neither she nor they had removed their veils or spoken a word, only on sitting down on the chair the woman gave a deep sigh and let her arms fall like one that was ill and weak. The attendants on foot then led the horses away to the stable. Observing this the curate, curious to know who these people in such a dress and preserving such silence were, went to where the servants were standing and put the question to one of them, who answered him.
“Faith, sir, I cannot tell you who they are, I only know they seem to be people of distinction, particularly he who advanced to take the lady you saw in his arms; and I say so because all the rest show him respect, and nothing is done except what he directs and orders.”
“And the lady, who is she?” asked the curate.
“That I cannot tell you either,” said the servant, “for I have not seen her face all the way: I have indeed heard her sigh many times and utter such groans that she seems to be giving up the ghost every time; but it is no wonder if we do not know more than we have told you, as my comrade and I have only been in their company two days, for having met us on the road they begged and persuaded us to accompany them to Andalusia, promising to pay us well.”
“And have you heard any of them called by his name?” asked the curate.
“No, indeed,” replied the servant; “they all preserve a marvellous silence on the road, for not a sound is to be heard among them except the poor lady’s sighs and sobs, which make us pity her; and we feel sure that wherever it is she is going, it is against her will, and as far as one can judge from her dress she is a nun or, what is more likely, about to become one; and perhaps it is because taking the vows is not of her own free will, that she is so unhappy as she seems to be.”
“That may well be,” said the curate, and leaving them he returned to where Dorothea was, who, hearing the veiled lady sigh, moved by natural compassion drew near to her and said, “What are you suffering from, senora? If it be anything that women are accustomed and know how to relieve, I offer you my services with all my heart.”
To this the unhappy lady made no reply; and though Dorothea repeated her offers more earnestly she still kept silence, until the gentleman with the veil, who, the servant said, was obeyed by the rest, approached and said to Dorothea, “Do not give yourself the trouble, senora, of making any offers to that woman, for it is her way to give no thanks for anything that is done for her; and do not try to make her answer unless you want to hear some lie from her lips.”
“I have never told a lie,” was the immediate reply of her who had been silent until now; “on the contrary, it is because I am so truthful and so ignorant of lying devices that I am now in this miserable condition; and this I call you yourself to witness, for it is my unstained truth that has made you false and a liar.”
Cardenio heard these words clearly and distinctly, being quite close to the speaker, for there was only the door of Don Quixote’s room between them, and the instant he did so, uttering a loud exclamation he cried, “Good God! what is this I hear? What voice is this that has reached my ears?” Startled at the voice the lady turned her head; and not seeing the speaker she stood up and attempted to enter the room; observing which the gentleman held her back, preventing her from moving a step. In her agitation and sudden movement the silk with which she had covered her face fell off and disclosed a countenance of incomparable and marvellous beauty, but pale and terrified; for she kept turning her eyes, everywhere she could direct her gaze, with an eagerness that made her look as if she had lost her senses, and so marked that it excited the pity of Dorothea and all who beheld her, though they knew not what caused it. The gentleman grasped her firmly by the shoulders, and being so fully occupied with holding her back, he was unable to put a hand to his veil which was falling off, as it did at length entirely, and Dorothea, who was holding the lady in her arms, raising her eyes saw that he who likewise held her was her husband, Don Fernando. The instant she recognised him, with a prolonged plaintive cry drawn from the depths of her heart, she fell backwards fainting, and but for the barber being close by to catch her in his arms, she would have fallen completely to the ground. The curate at once hastened to uncover her face and throw water on it, and as he did so Don Fernando, for he it was who held the other in his arms, recognised her and stood as if death-stricken by the sight; not, however, relaxing his grasp of Luscinda, for it was she that was struggling to release herself from his hold, having recognised Cardenio by his voice, as he had recognised her. Cardenio also heard Dorothea’s cry as she fell fainting, and imagining that it came from his Luscinda burst forth in terror from the room, and the first thing he saw was Don Fernando with Luscinda in his arms. Don Fernando, too, knew Cardenio at once; and all three, Luscinda, Cardenio, and Dorothea, stood in silent amazement scarcely knowing what had happened to them.
They gazed at one another without speaking, Dorothea at Don Fernando, Don Fernando at Cardenio, Cardenio at Luscinda, and Luscinda at Cardenio. The first to break silence was Luscinda, who thus addressed Don Fernando: “Leave me, Senor Don Fernando, for the sake of what you owe to yourself; if no other reason will induce you, leave me to cling to the wall of which I am the ivy, to the support from which neither your importunities, nor your threats, nor your promises, nor your gifts have been able to detach me. See how Heaven, by ways strange and hidden from our sight, has brought me face to face with my true husband; and well you know by dear-bought experience that death alone will be able to efface him from my memory. May this plain declaration, then, lead you, as you can do nothing else, to turn your love into rage, your affection into resentment, and so to take my life; for if I yield it up in the presence of my beloved husband I count it well bestowed; it may be by my death he will be convinced that I kept my faith to him to the last moment of life.”
Meanwhile Dorothea had come to herself, and had heard Luscinda’s words, by means of which she divined who she was; but seeing that Don Fernando did not yet release her or reply to her, summoning up her resolution as well as she could she rose and knelt at his feet, and with a flood of bright and touching tears addressed him thus:
“If, my lord, the beams of that sun that thou holdest eclipsed in thine arms did not dazzle and rob thine eyes of sight thou wouldst have seen by this time that she who kneels at thy feet is, so long as thou wilt have it so, the unhappy and unfortunate Dorothea. I am that lowly peasant girl whom thou in thy goodness or for thy pleasure wouldst raise high enough to call herself thine; I am she who in the seclusion of innocence led a contented life until at the voice of thy importunity, and thy true and tender passion, as it seemed, she opened the gates of her modesty and surrendered to thee the keys of her liberty; a gift received by thee but thanklessly, as is clearly shown by my forced retreat to the place where thou dost find me, and by thy appearance under the circumstances in which I see thee. Nevertheless, I would not have thee suppose that I have come here driven by my shame; it is only grief and sorrow at seeing myself forgotten by thee that have led me. It was thy will to make me thine, and thou didst so follow thy will, that now, even though thou repentest, thou canst not help being mine. Bethink thee, my lord, the unsurpassable affection I bear thee may compensate for the beauty and noble birth for which thou wouldst desert me. Thou canst not be the fair Luscinda’s because thou art mine, nor can she be thine because she is Cardenio’s ; and it will be easier, remember, to bend thy will to love one who adores thee, than to lead one to love thee who abhors thee now. Thou didst address thyself to my simplicity, thou didst lay siege to my virtue, thou wert not ignorant of my station, well dost thou know how I yielded wholly to thy will; there is no ground or reason for thee to plead deception, and if it be so, as it is, and if thou art a Christian as thou art a gentleman, why dost thou by such subterfuges put off making me as happy at last as thou didst at first? And if thou wilt not have me for what I am, thy true and lawful wife, at least take and accept me as thy slave, for so long as I am thine I will count myself happy and fortunate. Do not by deserting me let my shame become the talk of the gossips in the streets; make not the old age of my parents miserable; for the loyal services they as faithful vassals have ever rendered thine are not deserving of such a return; and if thou thinkest it will debase thy blood to mingle it with mine, reflect that there is little or no nobility in the world that has not travelled the same road, and that in illustrious lineages it is not the woman’s blood that is of account; and, moreover, that true nobility consists in virtue, and if thou art wanting in that, refusing me what in justice thou owest me, then even I have higher claims to nobility than thine. To make an end, senor, these are my last words to thee: whether thou wilt, or wilt not, I am thy wife; witness thy words, which must not and ought not to be false, if thou dost pride thyself on that for want of which thou scornest me; witness the pledge which thou didst give me, and witness Heaven, which thou thyself didst call to witness the promise thou hadst made me; and if all this fail, thy own conscience will not fail to lift up its silent voice in the midst of all thy gaiety, and vindicate the truth of what I say and mar thy highest pleasure and enjoyment.”
All this and more the injured Dorothea delivered with such earnest feeling and such tears that all present, even those who came with Don Fernando, were constrained to join her in them. Don Fernando listened to her without replying, until, ceasing to speak, she gave way to such sobs and sighs that it must have been a heart of brass that was not softened by the sight of so great sorrow. Luscinda stood regarding her with no less compassion for her sufferings than admiration for her intelligence and beauty, and would have gone to her to say some words of comfort to her, but was prevented by Don Fernando’s grasp which held her fast. He, overwhelmed with confusion and astonishment, after regarding Dorothea for some moments with a fixed gaze, opened his arms, and, releasing Luscinda, exclaimed:
“Thou hast conquered, fair Dorothea, thou hast conquered, for it is impossible to have the heart to deny the united force of so many truths.”
Luscinda in her feebleness was on the point of falling to the ground when Don Fernando released her, but Cardenio, who stood near, having retreated behind Don Fernando to escape recognition, casting fear aside and regardless of what might happen, ran forward to support her, and said as he clasped her in his arms, “If Heaven in its compassion is willing to let thee rest at last, mistress of my heart, true, constant, and fair, nowhere canst thou rest more safely than in these arms that now receive thee, and received thee before when fortune permitted me to call thee mine.”
At these words Luscinda looked up at Cardenio, at first beginning to recognise him by his voice and then satisfying herself by her eyes that it was he, and hardly knowing what she did, and heedless of all considerations of decorum, she flung her arms around his neck and pressing her face close to his, said, “Yes, my dear lord, you are the true master of this your slave, even though adverse fate interpose again, and fresh dangers threaten this life that hangs on yours.”
A strange sight was this for Don Fernando and those that stood around, filled with surprise at an incident so unlooked for. Dorothea fancied that Don Fernando changed colour and looked as though he meant to take vengeance on Cardenio, for she observed him put his hand to his sword; and the instant the idea struck her, with wonderful quickness she clasped him round the knees, and kissing them and holding him so as to prevent his moving, she said, while her tears continued to flow, “What is it thou wouldst do, my only refuge, in this unforeseen event? Thou hast thy wife at thy feet, and she whom thou wouldst have for thy wife is in the arms of her husband: reflect whether it will be right for thee, whether it will be possible for thee to undo what Heaven has done, or whether it will be becoming in thee to seek to raise her to be thy mate who in spite of every obstacle, and strong in her truth and constancy, is before thine eyes, bathing with the tears of love the face and bosom of her lawful husband. For God’s sake I entreat of thee, for thine own I implore thee, let not this open manifestation rouse thy anger; but rather so calm it as to allow these two lovers to live in peace and quiet without any interference from thee so long as Heaven permits them; and in so doing thou wilt prove the generosity of thy lofty noble spirit, and the world shall see that with thee reason has more influence than passion.”
All the time Dorothea was speaking, Cardenio, though he held Luscinda in his arms, never took his eyes off Don Fernando, determined, if he saw him make any hostile movement, to try and defend himself and resist as best he could all who might assail him, though it should cost him his life. But now Don Fernando’s friends, as well as the curate and the barber, who had been present all the while, not forgetting the worthy Sancho Panza, ran forward and gathered round Don Fernando, entreating him to have regard for the tears of Dorothea, and not suffer her reasonable hopes to be disappointed, since, as they firmly believed, what she said was but the truth; and bidding him observe that it was not, as it might seem, by accident, but by a special disposition of Providence that they had all met in a place where no one could have expected a meeting. And the curate bade him remember that only death could part Luscinda from Cardenio; that even if some sword were to separate them they would think their death most happy; and that in a case that admitted of no remedy his wisest course was, by conquering and putting a constraint upon himself, to show a generous mind, and of his own accord suffer these two to enjoy the happiness Heaven had granted them. He bade him, too, turn his eyes upon the beauty of Dorothea and he would see that few if any could equal much less excel her; while to that beauty should be added her modesty and the surpassing love she bore him. But besides all this, he reminded him that if he prided himself on being a gentleman and a Christian, he could not do otherwise than keep his plighted word; and that in doing so he would obey God and meet the approval of all sensible people, who know and recognised it to be the privilege of beauty, even in one of humble birth, provided virtue accompany it, to be able to raise itself to the level of any rank, without any slur upon him who places it upon an equality with himself; and furthermore that when the potent sway of passion asserts itself, so long as there be no mixture of sin in it, he is not to be blamed who gives way to it.
To be brief, they added to these such other forcible arguments that Don Fernando’s manly heart, being after all nourished by noble blood, was touched, and yielded to the truth which, even had he wished it, he could not gainsay; and he showed his submission, and acceptance of the good advice that had been offered to him, by stooping down and embracing Dorothea, saying to her, “Rise, dear lady, it is not right that what I hold in my heart should be kneeling at my feet; and if until now I have shown no sign of what I own, it may have been by Heaven’s decree in order that, seeing the constancy with which you love me, I may learn to value you as you deserve. What I entreat of you is that you reproach me not with my transgression and grievous wrong-doing; for the same cause and force that drove me to make you mine impelled me to struggle against being yours; and to prove this, turn and look at the eyes of the now happy Luscinda, and you will see in them an excuse for all my errors: and as she has found and gained the object of her desires, and I have found in you what satisfies all my wishes, may she live in peace and contentment as many happy years with her Cardenio, as on my knees I pray Heaven to allow me to live with my Dorothea;” and with these words he once more embraced her and pressed his face to hers with so much tenderness that he had to take great heed to keep his tears from completing the proof of his love and repentance in the sight of all. Not so Luscinda, and Cardenio, and almost all the others, for they shed so many tears, some in their own happiness, some at that of the others, that one would have supposed a heavy calamity had fallen upon them all. Even Sancho Panza was weeping; though afterwards he said he only wept because he saw that Dorothea was not as he fancied the queen Micomicona, of whom he expected such great favours. Their wonder as well as their weeping lasted some time, and then Cardenio and Luscinda went and fell on their knees before Don Fernando, returning him thanks for the favour he had rendered them in language so grateful that he knew not how to answer them, and raising them up embraced them with every mark of affection and courtesy.
He then asked Dorothea how she had managed to reach a place so far removed from her own home, and she in a few fitting words told all that she had previously related to Cardenio, with which Don Fernando and his companions were so delighted that they wished the story had been longer; so charmingly did Dorothea describe her misadventures. When she had finished Don Fernando recounted what had befallen him in the city after he had found in Luscinda’s bosom the paper in which she declared that she was Cardenio’s wife, and never could be his. He said he meant to kill her, and would have done so had he not been prevented by her parents, and that he quitted the house full of rage and shame, and resolved to avenge himself when a more convenient opportunity should offer. The next day he learned that Luscinda had disappeared from her father’s house, and that no one could tell whither she had gone. Finally, at the end of some months he ascertained that she was in a convent and meant to remain there all the rest of her life, if she were not to share it with Cardenio; and as soon as he had learned this, taking these three gentlemen as his companions, he arrived at the place where she was, but avoided speaking to her, fearing that if it were known he was there stricter precautions would be taken in the convent; and watching a time when the porter’s lodge was open he left two to guard the gate, and he and the other entered the convent in quest of Luscinda, whom they found in the cloisters in conversation with one of the nuns, and carrying her off without giving her time to resist, they reached a place with her where they provided themselves with what they required for taking her away; all which they were able to do in complete safety, as the convent was in the country at a considerable distance from the city. He added that when Luscinda found herself in his power she lost all consciousness, and after returning to herself did nothing but weep and sigh without speaking a word; and thus in silence and tears they reached that inn, which for him was reaching heaven where all the mischances of earth are over and at an end.
这时，站在客店门口的店主说：
“来了一队贵客。如果他们在这儿歇脚，咱们可就热闹了。”
“是什么人？”卡德尼奥问。
“四个人骑着短镫马，”店主说，“手持长矛和皮盾，头上都蒙着黑罩。还有一个穿白衣服的女人坐在靠背马鞍上，与他们同行，脑袋上也戴着头罩。另外有两个步行的伙计。”
“他们已经走得很近了吗？”神甫问。
“太近了，马上就要到了。”店主回答。
听到这话，多罗特亚又把脸蒙上了，卡德尼奥也走进了唐吉诃德的那个房间。店主说的那些人进来后，客店里几乎没地方了。四个骑马的人下了马，看样子都是一表人才。他们又去帮那个女人下马，其中一人张开双臂，把那女人抱了下来，放在卡德尼奥躲着的那个房间门口的一把椅子上。那个女人和那几个人始终都没有把头罩摘掉，也不说一句话。只有那个女人在椅子上坐下后，发出了一声深深的叹息，把胳膊垂了下来，宛如一个萎靡不振的病人。两个伙计把马牵到马厩去了。
看到这种情况，神甫很想知道这些如此装束、一言不发的人到底是干什么的。于是他跟着两个伙计，向其中一人打听。那人回答说：
“天哪，大人，我无法告诉您他们到底是什么人。我只知道他们显得很有身份，特别是把女人从马上抱下来的那个人显得更有身份，其他人都对他很尊敬，完全按照他的吩咐行事。”
“那女人是谁？”神甫又问。
“这我也没法告诉你，”那个伙计说，“一路上我始终没有看到过她的面孔。不过，我确实听到她叹了很多次气，每叹一次气都仿佛要死过去似的。我们只知道我们看到的这些。这也没什么可奇怪的，我和我的伙伴是两天前才开始与他们同行的。我们在路上碰到了他们，他们连求带劝，要我们陪他们到安达卢西亚去，答应给我们很高的报酬。”
“你听说他们叫什么名字吗？”神甫问。
“一点儿也没听到。”那个伙计说，“因为大家走路都不说话。这倒有点儿奇怪，因为只能听到那个可怜女人唉声叹气，我们都觉得她挺可怜。我们猜她一定是被迫到某个地方去。从装束上可以看出她是个修女，或者要当修女了，这是肯定的。
很可能她当修女并不是出于本意，所以显得很伤心。”
“都有可能。”神甫说。
神甫离开伙计，回到多罗特亚那儿。多罗特亚听到那蒙面女人叹息，不禁动了恻隐之心。她来到那女人身边，对她说：
“您哪儿不舒服，夫人？如果是女人常得的病，而且我又有治这种病的经验，我很愿意为您效劳。”
可是可怜的女人仍然不开口。尽管多罗特亚一再表示愿意帮忙，那女人还是保持沉默。随后，来了一位蒙面男人，也就是伙计说的那个发号施令的人。他对多罗特亚说：
“您不必费心了，她没有对别人为她做的事表示感谢的习惯，除了从她嘴里听到谎言，您别想从她那儿得到什么报答。”
“我从来不说谎，”那女人直到这时才开了口，“相反，正因为我真心实意，不做假，才落到现在这倒霉地步。你自己明白，正因为我真诚，你才虚伪和狡诈。”
这些话卡德尼奥听得一清二楚。他就在唐吉诃德的房间里，与那女人只有一门之隔，仿佛这些话就是在他身边说的。
他大声说道：
“上帝保佑！我听见什么了？我听到的是谁的声音？”
那个女人听见声音回过头来，却没看到人。她吓坏了，站起来就往房间里跑。那个男人看见了，立刻抓住她，使她动弹不得。那女人在慌乱和不安中弄掉了盖在头上的绸子，露出了自己的脸，虽然显得苍白和不安，却是一张美丽无比的脸。她的眼睛迅速向一切可以看到的地方张望，神态似乎有些不正常。她那副表情让多罗特亚和所有见到她的人都觉得她很可怜。那个男人从背后紧紧抓着她，自己头上的头罩都要掉了，也顾不上去扶一下。多罗特亚正搂着那女人。她抬头一看，发现把她同那女人一齐抱住的人竟是自己的丈夫费尔南多。多罗特亚刚一认出他来，就从内心深处发出了一声长长的哀叹，脑袋一阵晕眩，仰面向后倒去。若不是旁边的理发师及时抓住了她的胳膊，她就会摔倒在地了。
神甫立刻站起来拿掉多罗特亚的头罩，往她脸上喷水。神甫刚一拿掉多罗特亚的头罩，费尔南多就认出了她，差点儿被吓死。他呆若木鸡，不过并没有因此而放开抓着那个女人的手。而在费尔南多怀里挣扎的女人正是卢辛达。她已经听见了卡德尼奥的叹息，卡德尼奥现在也认出了她。卡德尼奥刚才听到多罗特亚的那声哀叹，以为那是卢辛达在哀叹，便慌忙跑出了房间。他首先看到费尔南多正抱着卢辛达。费尔南多也马上认出了卡德尼奥。卢辛达、卡德尼奥和多罗特亚面面相觑，不知道这是怎么一回事。
大家都默不作声地互相看着。多罗特亚看着费尔南多，费尔南多看着卡德尼奥，卡德尼奥看着卢辛达，卢辛达又看着卡德尼奥。首先打破沉默的是卢辛达。她对费尔南多说：
“放开我，费尔南多大人，请你自重，不要忘了自己的身份。你让我接近那堵墙吧，我是那墙上的常春藤。我依附于它，无论你骚扰威胁还是山盟海誓、慷慨赠与，都不能把我们分开。你看到了，老天通过我们看不见的神奇途径，又把我真正的丈夫送到了我面前。你经过百般周折，也该知道了，只有死亡才足以把他从我的记忆里抹掉。这些明确无误的事实只能让你的爱心变成疯狂，让你的好感变成厌恶。结束我的生命吧。如果我能在我的好丈夫面前献出我的生命，我觉得死得其所。也许我的死能够证明我对丈夫的忠诚。”
多罗特亚一直在听卢辛达说话，现在她才明白眼前这个人到底是谁。她见费尔南多还抓着卢辛达不松手，对卢辛达的话也置之不理，就全力挣脱出来，然后跪在费尔南多脚下，流着泪说道：
“我的大人，如果你怀中那蔽日的昏光没弄花你的眼睛，你就该看见，跪在你面前的是不幸的多罗特亚。如果你不给她幸福，她就不会幸福。我就是那个卑微的农家女子。你曾大发慈悲，或者一时高兴，想抬举我做你的妻子。我过去深居闺阁，无忧无虑，直到后来，在你似乎正当的纠缠骚扰下，向你敞开了我贞洁的大门，把我的自由的钥匙交给了你，以身相许，结果得到的却是忘恩负义。我来到这个地方，落到这种地步，实在是迫不得已。尽管这样，我也不愿意让你错以为我是忍辱到此，是被你遗弃的痛苦和悲伤把我带到了这里。你当初想让我做你的人，现在你虽然不再想这样，但也不可能不属于我了。
“看一看吧，我的大人，我对你的真心实意足以抵消你所喜欢的卢辛达的美貌和雍容。你不能属于美丽的卢辛达，你是我的；她也不能属于你，她是卡德尼奥的。如果你注意到了，你就会发现，对于你来说，把你的爱转向对你尊崇的人，要比让讨厌你的女人真心爱你容易得多。你大献殷勤，使我放松了自己；你百般乞求，得到了我的童身；你并不是不知道我的地位；你十分清楚，我是如何委身于你的。你没有理由说自己是受了欺骗。你作为一个基督教徒和男人，为什么要百般寻找借口推托，没有像过去说的那样，让我最终成为幸福的人呢？即使你由于我现在这种样子不爱我了，我仍是你真正的合法妻子，你至少还得爱我，把我当女奴接纳。我只有成为你的妻子，才会觉得自己是幸运的人。
“你不要抛弃我，让我成为街头巷尾被人们羞辱的话题。你不要害得我父母无法安度晚年，他们一直忠心为你服务，是你的好臣民，不该受到这样的待遇。如果你觉得你我的血混在一起就搞乱了你的血缘，你不妨想想世上很少有或根本没有哪个贵族的血缘是没被搀杂的。女人的血质并不是影响血统高贵的因素，相反，真正的高贵在于它的道德。如果你拒绝履行你应该对我做的事情，缺乏应有的道德，我的血统就比你的血统高贵。总之一句话，大人，我最后要对你说的就是：不管你愿意与否，我都是你的妻子。这有你的话为证。如果你自以为高贵，并且因此而鄙视我，就不应该食言。这里有你写的字据为证，有天为证，你对我许诺时曾指天为誓。如果这些都不算数，你的良心也会在你的快乐之中发出无声的呼喊，维护我所说的这个真理，使你在尽情的欢乐中总是惴惴不安。”
可怜的多罗特亚声泪俱下的陈述使费尔南多的随行人员和所有在场的人都为之动容。费尔南多一言不发地听多罗特亚说话。多罗特亚说完后不禁哀声饮泣，心肠再硬的人也不会无动于衷。卢辛达也一直在看着多罗特亚，既对她的不幸深表同情，又为她的机敏和美貌而惊讶。卢辛达想过去安慰多罗特亚几句话，无奈费尔南多依然抓着她的胳膊，使她不能动弹。费尔南多内心也充满不安和恐惧。他一直盯着多罗特亚，过了很长时间，终于放开了卢辛达，说道：
“你赢了，美丽的多罗特亚，你赢了。你这种真情是无法拒绝的。”
费尔南多一放开手，本来就感到晕眩的卢辛达差点儿倒在地上。幸亏卡德尼奥就在旁边，他一直站在费尔南多身后，不愿意让他认出自己来。这时卡德尼奥忘记了恐惧，不顾一切地冲过来扶住了卢辛达，抓住她的胳膊，对她说：
“老天若有情，会让你得到安宁的，我坚贞美丽的夫人。你在任何地方都不会比在我的怀里感到安全。你曾投身于我的怀抱，是命运让你成为我的妻子。”
听到这话，卢辛达把目光投到卡德尼奥身上。她先是从声音上认出了卡德尼奥，又看清确实是他，便不顾往日的庄重，忘情地搂住了卡德尼奥的脖子，把自己的脸贴在卡德尼奥的脸上，对他说：
“是你，我的大人，即使命途多舛，这个依附于你的生命再受到威胁，你仍是这个女囚的真正主人。”
费尔南多和所有在场的人看到这奇怪的场景都怔住了。多罗特亚觉得费尔南多脸上已经失去了血色，她看见费尔南多伸手去抽短剑，看样子是要跟卡德尼奥拼命，便赶紧抱住费尔南多的双膝，让他的腿动弹不得，而且不停地流着泪说：
“我唯一的支柱呀，在这个意想不到的时刻，你究竟想干什么？你的妻子就在你的脚下，而你想强占的那个女人正在她丈夫的怀里。你想打破老天的安排，你觉得对不对，而且可能不可能呢？她置一切干扰于不顾，当着你的面，把爱情的烈酒洒在了她真正丈夫的脸庞和胸膛上，证实了她的坚贞爱情。你想与她结发为妻，你觉得合适吗？看在上帝份上，我哀求你；看在你自己的身份上，我乞求你；现在事情已经真相大白，你不仅不该怒从心头起，相反倒应该息事宁人，让这一对有情人在天赐的良辰顺利地结成眷属，这样才能显示出你高贵的宽广胸怀，让大家看到你的理智战胜了欲望。”
在多罗特亚说话的时候，卡德尼奥虽然双手搂着卢辛达，眼睛却一直没有离开费尔南多。如果费尔南多有什么可能会伤害他的动作，他一定会奋起自卫，竭尽全力反击可能会伤害他的行动，即使牺牲了生命也在所不惜。不过这时候，费尔南多的朋友们、神甫和理发师都赶来了，连老好人桑乔也来了。大家围着费尔南多，请求他顾惜多罗特亚的眼泪。他们相信多罗特亚刚才讲的都是真的，不要辜负了她如此合理的愿望，让他想想，大家在这个地方意外地相逢，看来不是偶然的，而是老天的刻意安排。神甫还提醒说，看来只有死亡才能把卢辛达和卡德尼奥分开，而且，即使短剑的锋刃可以把他们分开，他们也会把死亡视为最大的幸福。在事情已经无可挽回的情况下，克制自己，表现出宽广的胸怀，诚心诚意地让他们享受老天赐予他们的欢乐，才算是勇气。只要他把自己的眼光放在美丽的多罗特亚身上，就会发现，很少有人或者根本没有人可以与她媲美，况且多罗特亚爱他是如此谦恭，一片赤诚。更重要的是，如果他还自认为是个男子汉，是基督教徒，就必须履行自己的诺言。履行了自己的诺言，就是向上帝履行诺言，让所有规矩的人都满意。他们都知道，美貌是一个人的优越长处。即使她出身卑微，也可以上升到贵族的地位，并且不受抬举她的人歧视。爱情的不变规律里容不得任何罪恶，只要遵守这个规律，就摆脱了罪恶。
费尔南多毕竟是个贵族，有着宽广的胸怀，听了大家这番说，他的心软了下来，只得面对现实，这个现实是他无法否认的。他只好服从大家的好言相劝，蹲下身来抱住多罗特亚，对她说：
“站起来吧，我的夫人，让我的宝贝跪在我的脚下太不合理了。在此之前我没有对你作出明确表示，大概是老天见你忠实地热爱我，才有意让我知道应当如何珍视你。我请求你不要责备我的过错和我的粗心大意。当初我不愿意让我属于你，而现在我以同样的决心接受了你。如果你转过头去，看看卢辛达那双快乐的眼睛，从那双眼睛里看到她已经原谅了我的所有过错，你就会知道这些都是真的。她已经得到了她希望得到的东西，我也从你这儿得到了我的东西。她可以放心地同她的卡德尼奥天长地久，我也会乞求老天让我同我的多罗特亚生活在一起。”
说完，费尔南多又抱住了多罗特亚，把自己的脸深情地贴到她脸上，极力不让自己的眼泪泄露他无可置疑的爱怜与悔恨。卢辛达和卡德尼奥流的却不是这种眼泪，几乎所有在场的人也都是如此。大家热泪盈眶，有的人为自己高兴，有的人为别人高兴，可是样子就好像是遭了什么大难似的。桑乔也哭了，不过他哭是因为他这才知道，多罗特亚并不像他想的那样是什么米科米科娜公主，他本来指望从她那儿得到很多赏赐呢。大家感到一阵惊讶，而后，卡德尼奥和卢辛达又跪在费尔南多面前，感谢费尔南多成全了他们。他们言辞得体，费尔南多竟不知如何回答是好。他也显得非常友好，非常有礼貌地把他们扶了起来，又问多罗特亚如何到了这个如此遥远的地方。她简明扼要地把原来对卡德尼奥讲过的那些事又讲了一遍，费尔南多和他的随行人员对此都很感兴趣，多罗特亚把自己的不幸讲得太生动了，他们都希望她讲得再长些。
多罗特亚讲完后，费尔南多接着讲了他发现卢辛达怀里有张纸条，说她是卡德尼奥的妻子，因而不能再属于他等等事情。费尔南多说他想杀了卢辛达，若不是她父母阻止，他真会这样做。后来，他既沮丧又羞愧地离开了家，决心找个更合适的机会报复。第二天，他得知卢辛达已经离开了父母家，去向不明。几个月后，他听说卢辛达在一个修道院里，还说如果不能同卡德尼奥一起生活，她就永远待在修道院里。费尔南多了解到这些情况后，就找了那三个人陪同他来到了修道院。不过他并没有告诉卢辛达，怕她知道后会有所防备，只是在外面等待。有一天，修道院的门开着，他就让两个人守住大门，自己带着一个人进去找卢辛达，发现卢辛达正在回廊里同一个修女说话。他不容分说，就把卢辛达抢走了。他们带她到了一个地方，做了一些准备。那个修道院地处原野，离村镇很远，因而一切都进行得很顺利。卢辛达发现自己到了费尔南多手里，顿时晕死过去，醒来后，也只是边哭边哀叹，一句话也不说。就这样，他们由沉默和眼泪伴随着来到了这个客店。算是老天开眼，世间的所有不幸都在这里结束了。