The history relates that the outcry Don Quixote, the curate, and the barber heard came from the niece and the housekeeper exclaiming to Sancho, who was striving to force his way in to see Don Quixote while they held the door against him, “What does the vagabond want in this house? Be off to your own, brother, for it is you, and no one else, that delude my master, and lead him astray, and take him tramping about the country.”
To which Sancho replied, “Devil’s own housekeeper! it is I who am deluded, and led astray, and taken tramping about the country, and not thy master! He has carried me all over the world, and you are mightily mistaken. He enticed me away from home by a trick, promising me an island, which I am still waiting for.”
“May evil islands choke thee, thou detestable Sancho,” said the niece; “What are islands? Is it something to eat, glutton and gormandiser that thou art?”
“It is not something to eat,” replied Sancho, “but something to govern and rule, and better than four cities or four judgeships at court.”
“For all that,” said the housekeeper, “you don’t enter here, you bag of mischief and sack of knavery; go govern your house and dig your seed-patch, and give over looking for islands or shylands.”
The curate and the barber listened with great amusement to the words of the three; but Don Quixote, uneasy lest Sancho should blab and blurt out a whole heap of mischievous stupidities, and touch upon points that might not be altogether to his credit, called to him and made the other two hold their tongues and let him come in. Sancho entered, and the curate and the barber took their leave of Don Quixote, of whose recovery they despaired when they saw how wedded he was to his crazy ideas, and how saturated with the nonsense of his unlucky chivalry; and said the curate to the barber, “You will see, gossip, that when we are least thinking of it, our gentleman will be off once more for another flight.”
“I have no doubt of it,” returned the barber; “but I do not wonder so much at the madness of the knight as at the simplicity of the squire, who has such a firm belief in all that about the island, that I suppose all the exposures that could be imagined would not get it out of his head.”
“God help them,” said the curate; “and let us be on the look-out to see what comes of all these absurdities of the knight and squire, for it seems as if they had both been cast in the same mould, and the madness of the master without the simplicity of the man would not be worth a farthing.”
“That is true,” said the barber, “and I should like very much to know what the pair are talking about at this moment.”
“I promise you,” said the curate, “the niece or the housekeeper will tell us by-and-by, for they are not the ones to forget to listen.”
Meanwhile Don Quixote shut himself up in his room with Sancho, and when they were alone he said to him, “It grieves me greatly, Sancho, that thou shouldst have said, and sayest, that I took thee out of thy cottage, when thou knowest I did not remain in my house. We sallied forth together, we took the road together, we wandered abroad together; we have had the same fortune and the same luck; if they blanketed thee once, they belaboured me a hundred times, and that is the only advantage I have of thee.”
“That was only reasonable,” replied Sancho, “for, by what your worship says, misfortunes belong more properly to knights-errant than to their squires.”
“Thou art mistaken, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “according to the maxim quando caput dolet, etc.”
“I don’t understand any language but my own,” said Sancho.
“I mean to say,” said Don Quixote, “that when the head suffers all the members suffer; and so, being thy lord and master, I am thy head, and thou a part of me as thou art my servant; and therefore any evil that affects or shall affect me should give thee pain, and what affects thee give pain to me.”
“It should be so,” said Sancho; “but when I was blanketed as a member, my head was on the other side of the wall, looking on while I was flying through the air, and did not feel any pain whatever; and if the members are obliged to feel the suffering of the head, it should be obliged to feel their sufferings.”
“Dost thou mean to say now, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “that I did not feel when they were blanketing thee? If thou dost, thou must not say so or think so, for I felt more pain then in spirit than thou didst in body. But let us put that aside for the present, for we shall have opportunities enough for considering and settling the point; tell me, Sancho my friend, what do they say about me in the village here? What do the common people think of me? What do the hidalgos? What do the caballeros? What do they say of my valour; of my achievements; of my courtesy? How do they treat the task I have undertaken in reviving and restoring to the world the now forgotten order of chivalry? In short, Sancho, I would have thee tell me all that has come to thine ears on this subject; and thou art to tell me, without adding anything to the good or taking away anything from the bad; for it is the duty of loyal vassals to tell the truth to their lords just as it is and in its proper shape, not allowing flattery to add to it or any idle deference to lessen it. And I would have thee know, Sancho, that if the naked truth, undisguised by flattery, came to the ears of princes, times would be different, and other ages would be reckoned iron ages more than ours, which I hold to be the golden of these latter days. Profit by this advice, Sancho, and report to me clearly and faithfully the truth of what thou knowest touching what I have demanded of thee.”
“That I will do with all my heart, master,” replied Sancho, “provided your worship will not be vexed at what I say, as you wish me to say it out in all its nakedness, without putting any more clothes on it than it came to my knowledge in.”
“I will not be vexed at all,” returned Don Quixote; “thou mayest speak freely, Sancho, and without any beating about the bush.”
“Well then,” said he, “first of all, I have to tell you that the common people consider your worship a mighty great madman, and me no less a fool. The hidalgos say that, not keeping within the bounds of your quality of gentleman, you have assumed the ‘Don,’ and made a knight of yourself at a jump, with four vine-stocks and a couple of acres of land, and never a shirt to your back. The caballeros say they do not want to have hidalgos setting up in opposition to them, particularly squire hidalgos who polish their own shoes and darn their black stockings with green silk.”
“That,” said Don Quixote, “does not apply to me, for I always go well dressed and never patched; ragged I may be, but ragged more from the wear and tear of arms than of time.”
“As to your worship’s valour, courtesy, accomplishments, and task, there is a variety of opinions. Some say, ‘mad but droll;’ others, ‘valiant but unlucky;’ others, ‘courteous but meddling,’ and then they go into such a number of things that they don’t leave a whole bone either in your worship or in myself.”
“Recollect, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “that wherever virtue exists in an eminent degree it is persecuted. Few or none of the famous men that have lived escaped being calumniated by malice. Julius Caesar, the boldest, wisest, and bravest of captains, was charged with being ambitious, and not particularly cleanly in his dress, or pure in his morals. Of Alexander, whose deeds won him the name of Great, they say that he was somewhat of a drunkard. Of Hercules, him of the many labours, it is said that he was lewd and luxurious. Of Don Galaor, the brother of Amadis of Gaul, it was whispered that he was over quarrelsome, and of his brother that he was lachrymose. So that, O Sancho, amongst all these calumnies against good men, mine may be let pass, since they are no more than thou hast said.”
“That’s just where it is, body of my father!”
“Is there more, then?” asked Don Quixote.
“There’s the tail to be skinned yet,” said Sancho; “all so far is cakes and fancy bread; but if your worship wants to know all about the calumnies they bring against you, I will fetch you one this instant who can tell you the whole of them without missing an atom; for last night the son of Bartholomew Carrasco, who has been studying at Salamanca, came home after having been made a bachelor, and when I went to welcome him, he told me that your worship’s history is already abroad in books, with the title of The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha; and he says they mention me in it by my own name of Sancho Panza, and the lady Dulcinea del Toboso too, and divers things that happened to us when we were alone; so that I crossed myself in my wonder how the historian who wrote them down could have known them.”
“I promise thee, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “the author of our history will be some sage enchanter; for to such nothing that they choose to write about is hidden.”
“What!” said Sancho, “a sage and an enchanter! Why, the bachelor Samson Carrasco (that is the name of him I spoke of) says the author of the history is called Cide Hamete Berengena.”
“That is a Moorish name,” said Don Quixote.
“May be so,” replied Sancho; “for I have heard say that the Moors are mostly great lovers of berengenas.”
“Thou must have mistaken the surname of this ‘Cide’ — which means in Arabic ‘Lord’ — Sancho,” observed Don Quixote.
“Very likely,” replied Sancho, “but if your worship wishes me to fetch the bachelor I will go for him in a twinkling.”
“Thou wilt do me a great pleasure, my friend,” said Don Quixote, “for what thou hast told me has amazed me, and I shall not eat a morsel that will agree with me until I have heard all about it.”
“Then I am off for him,” said Sancho; and leaving his master he went in quest of the bachelor, with whom he returned in a short time, and, all three together, they had a very droll colloquy.
故事说到唐吉诃德、神甫和理发师听到喊声，那是唐吉诃德的外甥女和女管家冲桑乔喊的。桑乔非要进来看望唐吉诃德，她们把住门不让进，还说：
“你这个笨蛋进来干什么？回你自己家去，兄弟，不是别人，正是你骗了我们大人，还带着他到处乱跑。”
桑乔说道：
“真是魔鬼夫人！被骗被带着到处乱跑的是我，而不是你们主人。是他带着我去了那些地方，你们自己弄糊涂了。他许诺说给我一个岛屿，把我骗出了家，我到现在还等着那个岛屿呢。”
“让那些破岛屿噎死你！”外甥女说，“混蛋桑乔，岛屿是什么东西？是吃的吗？你这个馋货、饭桶！”
“不是吃的，”桑乔说，“是我可以管理得比四个市政长官还好的一种东西。”
“即使这样，”女管家说，“你也别进来，你这个一肚子坏水的家伙。你去管好你的家，种好你那点地，别想要什么岛不岛的了。”
神甫和理发师饶有兴趣地听着三个人的对话，可唐吉诃德怕桑乔把他们那堆傻事都和盘托出，有损自己的名誉，就叫桑乔和那两个女人别嚷嚷了，让桑乔进来。桑乔进来了，神甫和理发师起身告辞。他们见唐吉诃德头脑里那些胡思乱想根深蒂固，仍沉湎于骑士的愚蠢念头，不禁对唐吉诃德恢复健康感到绝望了。神甫对理发师说：
“你看着吧，伙计，说不定在咱们想不到的什么时候，咱们这位英雄就又会出去展翅高飞了。”
“我对此丝毫也不怀疑，”理发师说，“不过，侍从的头脑竟如此简单，甚至比骑士的疯癫更让我感到惊奇。他认准了那个岛屿，我估计咱们就是再费力也不会让他打消这个念头了。”
“上帝会解救他的。”神甫说，“咱们瞧着吧，这两个人全都走火入魔了，简直如出一辙。主人的疯癫若是没有侍从的愚蠢相配，那就不值得一提了。”
“是这样，”理发师说，“我很愿意听听他们俩现在谈什么。”
“我肯定，”神甫说，“唐吉诃德的外甥女或女管家事后肯定会告诉咱们。照她们俩的习惯，她们不会不偷听的。”
唐吉诃德让桑乔进了房间，关上门。房间里只有他们俩。
唐吉诃德对桑乔说：
“你刚才说是我把你从家里骗出来的，我听了很难受。你知道，我也并没有留在家里呀。咱们一起出去，一起赶路，一起巡视，咱们俩命运相同。你被扔了一回，可我也被打过上百次，比你还厉害呢。”
“这也是应该的，”桑乔说，“照您自己说的，游侠骑士遇到的不幸总是比侍从遇到的多。”
“你错了，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“有句话说：quando caput do－Let……”
“我只懂得咱们自己的语言。”桑乔说。
“我的意思是说，”唐吉诃德说，“头痛全身痛。我是你的主人，所以我是你的脑袋；你是我的身体一部分，因为你是我的侍从。从这个道理上讲，我遇到了不幸，或者说如果我遇到了不幸，你也会感到疼痛。你如果遇到了不幸，我也一样疼痛。”
“理应如此，”桑乔说，“可是我这个身体部分被人扔的时候，您作为我的脑袋却在墙头后面看着我被扔上去，并没有感到任何痛苦呀，它本来也应该感到疼痛嘛。”
“你是想说，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“他们扔你的时候，我没感到疼痛吗？如果你是这个意思的话，可别这么说，也别这么想。我的灵魂当时比你的身体疼得还厉害。不过，咱们现在先不谈这个，等以后有时间再来确定这件事吧。咱们现在说正题。你告诉我，桑乔，现在这儿的人是怎么议论我的？平民百姓都怎么说，贵族和骑士们又怎么说？他们对我的勇气、我的事迹、我的礼貌是怎么说的？他们对我要在这个世界上重振游侠骑士之道是怎么评论的？一句话，我想让你告诉我你所听到的一切。你原原本本地告诉我，不要加好听的，也不要去掉不好听的。忠实的仆人应该据实向主人报告，不要因为企图奉承而有所夸张，也不要因为盲目尊崇而有所隐瞒。你该知道，桑乔，如果当初君主们听到的都是不折不扣的事实，没有任何恭维的成分，那么世道就会不一样，就会是比我们现在更为‘铁实’的时代，也就是现在常说的黄金时代。桑乔，请你按照我的告诫，仔细认真地把你知道的有关我刚才问到的那些情况告诉我吧。”
“我很愿意这样做，我的大人，”桑乔说，“不过我有个条件，就是不管我说什么，你都不要生气，因为你想让我据实说，不加任何修饰。”
“我不会生气的，”唐吉诃德说，“你放开了讲，桑乔，不必绕弯子。”
“我首先要说的就是，”桑乔说，“老百姓把您看成最大的疯子，说我也愚蠢得够呛。贵族们说，您本来就不是贵族圈子里的人，就凭那点儿家世，那几亩地，还有身上那两片破布，竟给自己加了个‘唐’，当了什么骑士。而骑士们说，他们不愿意让贵族与他们作对，特别是那种用蒸汽擦皮鞋①、用绿布补黑袜子的只配当侍从的贵族。”
①当时没有鞋油，只好在皮鞋上抹些水、油和蛋清，再用蒸汽熏。
“这不是说我，”唐吉诃德说，“我从来都是穿得整整齐齐，没带补丁的。衣服破了，那倒有可能，不过那是甲胄磨破的，而不是穿破的。”
“至于说到您的勇气、礼貌、事迹等事情，”桑乔接着说，“大家就看法不一了。有的人说：‘疯疯癫癫的，不过挺滑稽。’另外一些人说：‘勇敢，却又不幸。’还有人说：‘有礼貌，可是不得体。’还说了许多话，连您带我都说得体无完肤。”
“你看，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“凡是出人头地的人，都会遭到谗害，历来很少或者根本没有名人不受恶毒攻击的。像尤利乌斯·凯撒，是个极其勇猛而又十分谨慎的统帅，却被说成野心勃勃，衣服和生活作风都不那么干净。亚历山大功盖天下，号称大帝，却有人说他爱酗酒；再说赫拉克勒斯，战果累累，却说他骄奢好色。高卢的阿马迪斯的兄弟加劳尔，有人议论他太好斗，又说阿马迪斯爱哭。所以桑乔，对这些好人都有那么多议论，我又何尝不是如此呢，你说的那些就属于这种情况。”
“问题就在这儿，而且还不止是这些呀！”桑乔说。
“那么，还有什么？”唐吉诃德问。
“还有没说的呢，”桑乔说，“这些都算是简单的。如果您想了解所有那些攻击您的话，我可以马上给您找个人来，把所有那些话都告诉您，一点儿也不会漏下。昨天晚上巴托洛梅·卡拉斯科的儿子来了。他从萨拉曼卡学成归来，现在是学士了。我去迎接他的时候，他对我说您的事情已经编成书了，书名就叫《唐吉诃德》，还说书里也涉及到我，而且就用了桑乔·潘萨这个名字。托博索的杜尔西内亚也有，还有一些完全是咱们之间的事情。我吓得直画十字，不懂这个故事的作者怎么会知道了那些事情。”
“我敢肯定，桑乔，”唐吉诃德说，“一定是某位会魔法的文人编了这个故事。他们要写什么，就不会有什么事能瞒住他们。”
“怎么会又是文人又是魔法师呢！刚才，参孙·卡拉斯科学士，我就是这样称呼他的，他对我说，故事的作者叫锡德·哈迈德·贝伦赫纳①。”
①桑乔把贝嫩赫利误说成贝伦赫纳，而贝伦赫纳是茄子的意思。
“这是个摩尔人的名字。”唐吉诃德说。
“是的，”桑乔说，“我听很多人说，摩尔人就喜欢贝伦赫纳。”
“你大概是把这个‘锡德’的意思弄错了，桑乔。”唐吉诃德说，“在阿拉伯语里，锡德是‘大人’的意思。”
“这完全可能，”桑乔说，“不过，您如果愿意让他到这儿来，我马上就去找。”
“你如果能去找，那太好了，朋友。”唐吉诃德说，“你刚才说的那些让我心里一直惦记着。不把情况完全搞清楚，我就什么也不吃。”
“那我就去找他。”桑乔说。
桑乔离开主人去找那位学士，不一会儿就同那个人一起回来了。于是，三个人又开始了一场极其滑稽的对话。