Great was the pleasure the duke and duchess took in the conversation of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza; and, more bent than ever upon the plan they had of practising some jokes upon them that should have the look and appearance of adventures, they took as their basis of action what Don Quixote had already told them about the cave of Montesinos, in order to play him a famous one. But what the duches marvelled at above all was that Sancho’s simplicity could be so great as to make him believe as absolute truth that Dulcinea had been enchanted, when it was he himself who had been the enchanter and trickster in the business. Having, therefore, instructed their servants in everything they were to do, six days afterwards they took him out to hunt, with as great a retinue of huntsmen and beaters as a crowned king.
They presented Don Quixote with a hunting suit, and Sancho with another of the finest green cloth; but Don Quixote declined to put his on, saying that he must soon return to the hard pursuit of arms, and could not carry wardrobes or stores with him. Sancho, however, took what they gave him, meaning to sell it the first opportunity.
The appointed day having arrived, Don Quixote armed himself, and Sancho arrayed himself, and mounted on his Dapple (for he would not give him up though they offered him a horse), he placed himself in the midst of the troop of huntsmen. The duchess came out splendidly attired, and Don Quixote, in pure courtesy and politeness, held the rein of her palfrey, though the duke wanted not to allow him; and at last they reached a wood that lay between two high mountains, where, after occupying various posts, ambushes, and paths, and distributing the party in different positions, the hunt began with great noise, shouting, and hallooing, so that, between the baying of the hounds and the blowing of the horns, they could not hear one another. The duchess dismounted, and with a sharp boar-spear in her hand posted herself where she knew the wild boars were in the habit of passing. The duke and Don Quixote likewise dismounted and placed themselves one at each side of her. Sancho took up a position in the rear of all without dismounting from Dapple, whom he dared not desert lest some mischief should befall him. Scarcely had they taken their stand in a line with several of their servants, when they saw a huge boar, closely pressed by the hounds and followed by the huntsmen, making towards them, grinding his teeth and tusks, and scattering foam from his mouth. As soon as he saw him Don Quixote, bracing his shield on his arm, and drawing his sword, advanced to meet him; the duke with boar-spear did the same; but the duchess would have gone in front of them all had not the duke prevented her. Sancho alone, deserting Dapple at the sight of the mighty beast, took to his heels as hard as he could and strove in vain to mount a tall oak. As he was clinging to a branch, however, half-way up in his struggle to reach the top, the bough, such was his ill-luck and hard fate, gave way, and caught in his fall by a broken limb of the oak, he hung suspended in the air unable to reach the ground. Finding himself in this position, and that the green coat was beginning to tear, and reflecting that if the fierce animal came that way he might be able to get at him, he began to utter such cries, and call for help so earnestly, that all who heard him and did not see him felt sure he must be in the teeth of some wild beast. In the end the tusked boar fell pierced by the blades of the many spears they held in front of him; and Don Quixote, turning round at the cries of Sancho, for he knew by them that it was he, saw him hanging from the oak head downwards, with Dapple, who did not forsake him in his distress, close beside him; and Cide Hamete observes that he seldom saw Sancho Panza without seeing Dapple, or Dapple without seeing Sancho Panza; such was their attachment and loyalty one to the other. Don Quixote went over and unhooked Sancho, who, as soon as he found himself on the ground, looked at the rent in his huntingcoat and was grieved to the heart, for he thought he had got a patrimonial estate in that suit.
Meanwhile they had slung the mighty boar across the back of a mule, and having covered it with sprigs of rosemary and branches of myrtle, they bore it away as the spoils of victory to some large field-tents which had been pitched in the middle of the wood, where they found the tables laid and dinner served, in such grand and sumptuous style that it was easy to see the rank and magnificence of those who had provided it. Sancho, as he showed the rents in his torn suit to the duchess, observed, “If we had been hunting hares, or after small birds, my coat would have been safe from being in the plight it’s in; I don’t know what pleasure one can find in lying in wait for an animal that may take your life with his tusk if he gets at you. I recollect having heard an old ballad sung that says,
By bears be thou devoured, as erst
Was famous Favila.”
“That,” said Don Quixote, “was a Gothic king, who, going a-hunting, was devoured by a bear.”
“Just so,” said Sancho; “and I would not have kings and princes expose themselves to such dangers for the sake of a pleasure which, to my mind, ought not to be one, as it consists in killing an animal that has done no harm whatever.”
“Quite the contrary, Sancho; you are wrong there,” said the duke; “for hunting is more suitable and requisite for kings and princes than for anybody else. The chase is the emblem of war; it has stratagems, wiles, and crafty devices for overcoming the enemy in safety; in it extreme cold and intolerable heat have to be borne, indolence and sleep are despised, the bodily powers are invigorated, the limbs of him who engages in it are made supple, and, in a word, it is a pursuit which may be followed without injury to anyone and with enjoyment to many; and the best of it is, it is not for everybody, as field-sports of other sorts are, except hawking, which also is only for kings and great lords. Reconsider your opinion therefore, Sancho, and when you are governor take to hunting, and you will find the good of it.”
“Nay,” said Sancho, “the good governor should have a broken leg and keep at home;” it would be a nice thing if, after people had been at the trouble of coming to look for him on business, the governor were to be away in the forest enjoying himself; the government would go on badly in that fashion. By my faith, senor, hunting and amusements are more fit for idlers than for governors; what I intend to amuse myself with is playing all fours at Eastertime, and bowls on Sundays and holidays; for these huntings don’t suit my condition or agree with my conscience.”
“God grant it may turn out so,” said the duke; “because it’s a long step from saying to doing.”
“Be that as it may,” said Sancho, “‘pledges don’t distress a good payer,’ and ‘he whom God helps does better than he who gets up early,’ and ‘it’s the tripes that carry the feet and not the feet the tripes;’ I mean to say that if God gives me help and I do my duty honestly, no doubt I’ll govern better than a gerfalcon. Nay, let them only put a finger in my mouth, and they’ll see whether I can bite or not.”
“The curse of God and all his saints upon thee, thou accursed Sancho!” exclaimed Don Quixote; “when will the day come — as I have often said to thee — when I shall hear thee make one single coherent, rational remark without proverbs? Pray, your highnesses, leave this fool alone, for he will grind your souls between, not to say two, but two thousand proverbs, dragged in as much in season, and as much to the purpose as — may God grant as much health to him, or to me if I want to listen to them!”
“Sancho Panza’s proverbs,” said the duchess, “though more in number than the Greek Commander’s, are not therefore less to be esteemed for the conciseness of the maxims. For my own part, I can say they give me more pleasure than others that may be better brought in and more seasonably introduced.”
In pleasant conversation of this sort they passed out of the tent into the wood, and the day was spent in visiting some of the posts and hiding-places, and then night closed in, not, however, as brilliantly or tranquilly as might have been expected at the season, for it was then midsummer; but bringing with it a kind of haze that greatly aided the project of the duke and duchess; and thus, as night began to fall, and a little after twilight set in, suddenly the whole wood on all four sides seemed to be on fire, and shortly after, here, there, on all sides, a vast number of trumpets and other military instruments were heard, as if several troops of cavalry were passing through the wood. The blaze of the fire and the noise of the warlike instruments almost blinded the eyes and deafened the ears of those that stood by, and indeed of all who were in the wood. Then there were heard repeated lelilies after the fashion of the Moors when they rush to battle; trumpets and clarions brayed, drums beat, fifes played, so unceasingly and so fast that he could not have had any senses who did not lose them with the confused din of so many instruments. The duke was astounded, the duchess amazed, Don Quixote wondering, Sancho Panza trembling, and indeed, even they who were aware of the cause were frightened. In their fear, silence fell upon them, and a postillion, in the guise of a demon, passed in front of them, blowing, in lieu of a bugle, a huge hollow horn that gave out a horrible hoarse note.
“Ho there! brother courier,” cried the duke, “who are you? Where are you going? What troops are these that seem to be passing through the wood?”
To which the courier replied in a harsh, discordant voice, “I am the devil; I am in search of Don Quixote of La Mancha; those who are coming this way are six troops of enchanters, who are bringing on a triumphal car the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso; she comes under enchantment, together with the gallant Frenchman Montesinos, to give instructions to Don Quixote as to how, she the said lady, may be disenchanted.”
“If you were the devil, as you say and as your appearance indicates,” said the duke, “you would have known the said knight Don Quixote of La Mancha, for you have him here before you.”
“By God and upon my conscience,” said the devil, “I never observed it, for my mind is occupied with so many different things that I was forgetting the main thing I came about.”
“This demon must be an honest fellow and a good Christian,” said Sancho; “for if he wasn’t he wouldn’t swear by God and his conscience; I feel sure now there must be good souls even in hell itself.”
Without dismounting, the demon then turned to Don Quixote and said, “The unfortunate but valiant knight Montesinos sends me to thee, the Knight of the Lions (would that I saw thee in their claws), bidding me tell thee to wait for him wherever I may find thee, as he brings with him her whom they call Dulcinea del Toboso, that he may show thee what is needful in order to disenchant her; and as I came for no more I need stay no longer; demons of my sort be with thee, and good angels with these gentles;” and so saying he blew his huge horn, turned about and went off without waiting for a reply from anyone.
They all felt fresh wonder, but particularly Sancho and Don Quixote; Sancho to see how, in defiance of the truth, they would have it that Dulcinea was enchanted; Don Quixote because he could not feel sure whether what had happened to him in the cave of Montesinos was true or not; and as he was deep in these cogitations the duke said to him, “Do you mean to wait, Senor Don Quixote?”
“Why not?” replied he; “here will I wait, fearless and firm, though all hell should come to attack me.”
“Well then, if I see another devil or hear another horn like the last, I’ll wait here as much as in Flanders,” said Sancho.
Night now closed in more completely, and many lights began to flit through the wood, just as those fiery exhalations from the earth, that look like shooting-stars to our eyes, flit through the heavens; a frightful noise, too, was heard, like that made by the solid wheels the ox-carts usually have, by the harsh, ceaseless creaking of which, they say, the bears and wolves are put to flight, if there happen to be any where they are passing. In addition to all this commotion, there came a further disturbance to increase the tumult, for now it seemed as if in truth, on all four sides of the wood, four encounters or battles were going on at the same time; in one quarter resounded the dull noise of a terrible cannonade, in another numberless muskets were being discharged, the shouts of the combatants sounded almost close at hand, and farther away the Moorish lelilies were raised again and again. In a word, the bugles, the horns, the clarions, the trumpets, the drums, the cannon, the musketry, and above all the tremendous noise of the carts, all made up together a din so confused and terrific that Don Quixote had need to summon up all his courage to brave it; but Sancho’s gave way, and he fell fainting on the skirt of the duchess’s robe, who let him lie there and promptly bade them throw water in his face. This was done, and he came to himself by the time that one of the carts with the creaking wheels reached the spot. It was drawn by four plodding oxen all covered with black housings; on each horn they had fixed a large lighted wax taper, and on the top of the cart was constructed a raised seat, on which sat a venerable old man with a beard whiter than the very snow, and so long that it fell below his waist; he was dressed in a long robe of black buckram; for as the cart was thickly set with a multitude of candles it was easy to make out everything that was on it. Leading it were two hideous demons, also clad in buckram, with countenances so frightful that Sancho, having once seen them, shut his eyes so as not to see them again. As soon as the cart came opposite the spot the old man rose from his lofty seat, and standing up said in a loud voice, “I am the sage Lirgandeo,” and without another word the cart then passed on. Behind it came another of the same form, with another aged man enthroned, who, stopping the cart, said in a voice no less solemn than that of the first, “I am the sage Alquife, the great friend of Urganda the Unknown,” and passed on. Then another cart came by at the same pace, but the occupant of the throne was not old like the others, but a man stalwart and robust, and of a forbidding countenance, who as he came up said in a voice far hoarser and more devilish, “I am the enchanter Archelaus, the mortal enemy of Amadis of Gaul and all his kindred,” and then passed on. Having gone a short distance the three carts halted and the monotonous noise of their wheels ceased, and soon after they heard another, not noise, but sound of sweet, harmonious music, of which Sancho was very glad, taking it to be a good sign; and said he to the duchess, from whom he did not stir a step, or for a single instant, “Senora, where there’s music there can’t be mischief.”
“Nor where there are lights and it is bright,” said the duchess; to which Sancho replied, “Fire gives light, and it’s bright where there are bonfires, as we see by those that are all round us and perhaps may burn us; but music is a sign of mirth and merrymaking.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Don Quixote, who was listening to all that passed; and he was right, as is shown in the following chapter.
公爵和公爵夫人觉得同唐吉诃德和桑乔的谈话非常有趣，于是他们进一步拿他们开心，决定按照唐吉诃德说他在蒙特西诺斯洞窟里看到的那种情况，布置一场大闹剧。不过，公爵夫人没想到桑乔竟会如此单纯，当初明明是他一手制造了杜尔西内亚被魔法改变了模样的荒唐之说，现在他自己却又信以为真了。公爵和公爵夫人吩咐手下人如何如何行事。六天之后，他们率领大批猎手像陪同国王似的邀请唐吉诃德和桑乔去打猎。公爵和公爵夫人送给唐吉诃德一套猎装，另外也送了一套青色细呢猎装给桑乔。可是唐吉诃德不愿意穿那套猎装，说他第二天还得重新投入艰苦的戎马生涯，不可能带什么衣柜或食品柜。桑乔却接受了送给他的那套猎装，打算以后有机会就把那套衣服卖掉。
打猎那天，唐吉诃德浑身披挂，桑乔也穿好衣服，骑上驴，加入了打猎的行列。虽然人家愿意为他提供一匹马，可他还是舍不得那头驴。公爵夫人整装一新，大大方方地走出来。唐吉诃德出于礼貌，尽管公爵极力反对，还是坚持为公爵夫人的马牵着缰绳。他们来到两座高山中间的一片树林中，大家分散开来，各自找好自己的位置和埋伏处，随后便高声喊叫起来，开始围猎。他们的喊声很大，再加上狗叫声和号角声，以至于彼此之间连说话都听不见了。
公爵夫人下了马，手持一把锐利的投枪站在她以为野猪经常出没的地方。公爵和唐吉诃德也下马站在公爵夫人两侧。桑乔位于他们后面；他并没有下驴，不愿意冒险让他的驴遭到不测。他们的两边站着许多佣人。大家刚刚站定，就看见一头巨大的野猪龇牙咧嘴、口吐白沫地向他们奔来，后面有一群猎人和猎犬在追赶。唐吉诃德见状抄起剑，拿起盾，抢先迎上去。公爵也手持投枪迎上去，不过，若不是公爵拦着，抢在最前面的还是公爵夫人。只有桑乔一见到这头凶猛的野兽，就撇下他的驴拼命跑起来。桑乔想爬上一棵圣栎树，却又爬不上去，只能抓住一根树枝，搮在树干上往上窜。偏偏该他倒霉，树枝折断了。他摔下来时又被桠杈挂住悬在了半空。
桑乔眼看自己的绿色猎装就要被撕破，而且觉得那只野兽马上就要够着自己了，便大声喊救命，而且声音非常急迫。若是没看见他，光听他那喊声，准以为他已经被野猪咬着了。后来，野猪终于被众多的投枪刺倒了。唐吉诃德循着桑乔的喊声回头望，只见桑乔倒挂在树上，旁边是那头跟桑乔患难与共的灰驴。正如锡德·哈迈德所说，很少看见有桑乔没驴的时候，也很少看见有驴没桑乔的时候，两者之间的友谊和信任已经达到了这种程度。
唐吉诃德过去把桑乔解了下来。桑乔落地脱了身，见自己的猎装被撕破了，心疼得要死，因为他本来把那件衣服当成了一份资产。这时，有几个人已经把野猪横放到一匹骡子的背上，又用迷迭香和爱神木的树枝把野猪盖上，把它作为战利品带到了树林中搭设的几个帐篷那儿。帐篷里已经摆好了桌子，准备好了丰盛的酒席，让人一眼便知主人在此摆出了极大的排场。桑乔指着他那件撕破的衣服说：
“假如咱们打的只是兔子或小鸟，我的衣服肯定不会弄成这个样子。我不知道打这样一头野兽有什么好玩儿。要是被它咬一口，那就连命都没了。我记得一首老歌谣唱道：
就像著名的法维拉一样
被熊吃掉。”
“那是一位哥特族国王。”唐吉诃德说，“他去打猎时，被熊吃掉了。”
“我说的就是他。”桑乔说，“我不赞成让所有的王宫贵族都冒这样的危险，去换取一种无谓的乐趣，况且，这种乐趣只是杀死一头没犯任何罪的野兽。”
“你又错了，桑乔，”公爵说，“围猎是王宫贵人最适宜而又最不可缺少的一件事。狩猎可以说是战争的一种表现形式，也需要利用战术、狡诈和诡计去打败敌人。为此，需要忍受凛冽的严寒和难以忍受的酷暑，不得休息和睡眠。它可以锻炼人的力量，使人们的四肢更加灵活。总之，这是一项对任何人都没有害处的活动，并且可以给很多人带来欢乐。而它最大的好处就在于它不同于一般狩猎，那是大家都可以从事的。它就像用鹰打猎一样，只有王公贵族才能做到。所以桑乔啊，你得改变一下看法。等你当了总督，也去打猎的时候，你就知道打猎有多大的好处了。”
“不见得吧，”桑乔说，“优秀的总督应当是大门不出，二门不迈。有人气喘吁吁地跑来找他办事，他却在山上消遣打猎呢，这样不合适呀！这样的总督太差劲了。大人，我觉得打猎和消遣是游手好闲之徒的事，而不是总督的事。我想要的娱乐就是复活节时打打牌，星期日或节日时打打球，什么打猎、打累呀，我既不习惯，也不忍心那样做。”
“上帝保佑，但愿如此，桑乔，说是说，做是做，两者并不是一回事。”
“不管怎么说，”桑乔说，“‘打算还债，就不能心疼抵押品’，‘上帝帮忙胜过自己瞎忙’，‘肚子填满，腿就不软’。我是说，只要上帝肯帮忙，我当总督肯定比谁都当得好。不信你们就试试看，看我到底行不行！”
“你真该被上帝和所有的圣贤诅咒，该死的桑乔！”唐吉诃德说，“我说过多少回了，你什么时候才可以不扯俗语就把事情说清楚呀！两位大人，别理这个笨蛋，他真能把人烦死。他说起话来可不是一两句俗语哩。要是上帝不谴责，我再愿意听，他能够讲上两千句呢！”
公爵夫人说：“即使桑乔的俗语比希腊修道院长①的俗语还多，也不会因为多就减少了其价值。从我这方面来说，即使别的俗语说得再好，比他用的更恰当，我也还是乐意听他讲。”
①此处指萨拉曼卡教授、圣地亚哥修道院长和古希腊文化学者埃尔南·努涅斯·古斯曼。他曾于1555年出版了一本俗语专集。
他们说着闲话，走出帐篷，察看了几个埋伏处和岗哨，一天就过去了，夜慕渐渐降临。虽然是仲夏之夜，却不像往常那样明晰宁静，仿佛天公作美，朦胧的月色也要帮助公爵实现自己的目的似的。天色渐黑，黄昏刚刚来临，树林里突然狼烟四起，接着便听到远远近近一片号角和军乐声，仿佛有大批骑兵从树林里通过。伴着震耳欲聋的军乐声，耀眼的火光使周围的人几乎看不清眼前的一切，就更不用说森林里面的人了。随后，便是摩尔人打仗时呼喊的“雷里里”声，喇叭、号角和战鼓声连在一起，谁听了都会张皇失措。公爵慌乱，公爵夫人愕然，唐吉诃德惊讶不已，桑乔浑身颤抖，最后连一些知情人都害怕了。恐惧使大家都闭上了嘴。这时，一个魔鬼装束的驿车向导从他们面前跑过。不过他没有像其他向导那样吹着喇叭，而是吹着一只很大的空心牛角，牛角发出空荡而又可怕的声音。
“喂，向导兄弟，”公爵说，“你是谁？到哪儿去？似乎有军队从此地路过，那是些什么人？”
向导的声音既响亮又令人恐惧，他说道：
“我是魔鬼，我来寻找曼查的唐吉诃德。来到此地的是六支魔法师军队，他们用一辆彩车载来了托博索的举世无双的杜尔西内亚。她同法国勇士蒙特西诺斯一起被魔法制服了。她是来命令唐吉诃德为她解除魔法的。”
“如果你真像你说的那样，而且也像你的外观那样是魔鬼，你就应该认识曼查的唐吉诃德呀，他现在就在你面前。”
“我向上帝并且凭着我的良心发誓，”魔鬼说，“我并不认识他。现在我脑子里有好多乱七八糟的事情，倒把主要的事儿忘了。”
“这个魔鬼肯定是好人，是个好基督徒，”桑乔说，“否则他就不会说‘向上帝并且凭着良心发誓’了。现在我明白了，即使在地狱里也有好人。”
那魔鬼说完并没有下马，却转过头去对唐吉诃德说：
“狮子骑士，我真想看到你落到狮子爪下！落难的勇士蒙特西诺斯派我来，让我一碰到你就告诉你，让你在原地等他，他要带着托博索的杜尔西内亚夫人来找你，让你为她破除魔法。我的任务仅只如此，没有必要再耽搁了。愿所有像我一样的魔鬼同你在一起，愿善良的天使同这些大人在一起。”
说完他又吹起那只巨大的牛角，不等别人说什么，便转身离去了。
大家这次更惊讶了，尤其是桑乔和唐吉诃德。桑乔知道杜尔西内亚中魔法的事情是假的，所以对此事居然弄假成真感到惊讶。而唐吉诃德惊讶的是，这样就更不明白自己在蒙特西诺斯洞窟遇到的事情是真还是假了。大家正想着，只听公爵说道：
“您想在这儿等吗，唐吉诃德大人？”
“为什么不等呢？”唐吉诃德说，“即使地狱里的所有魔鬼都来找我，我也毫无畏惧，岿然不动。”
桑乔说：“如果我再看见一个魔鬼，再听到刚才那种牛角声，我就说不准还等不等了。”
此时天色已经完全黑下来，树林里流动着许多火光，仿佛大地冒出了阵阵气体飘浮在空中，在我们眼里仿佛变成了颗颗流星。这时，又听到一种类似牛车的实心轮子发出的声音。那种持续不断的凄厉声音，即使狼和熊也会被吓跑。伴着这种声音的是另外一种可怕的猛烈枪炮声，而且声音越来越响，仿佛树林里真的是四面开战了。那边响起了密集的枪声，近处又听到战士的呐喊，远处则是摩尔人的“雷里里”声。总之，号音、牛角、喇叭、战鼓、炮火、枪声，特别是那种可怕的车轮声，汇成了一种混乱而又令人恐惧的声音，连唐吉诃德也得鼓足他的全部勇气才勉强支撑住。桑乔已经吓昏了，倒在公爵夫人的裙下。公爵夫人忙吩咐往桑乔脸上泼水。
泼完水后，桑乔发现一辆发出那种吱嘎轮声的牛车来到了他们那个哨位。四头懒洋洋的牛罩着黑色饰布，拉着那辆车，每头牛的牛角上都缚着一支点燃的四芯大蜡烛。车上有个高高的座椅，椅子上坐着一位令人肃然起敬的老者。老人的胡子比雪还白，并且长长地垂过腰间，身上穿的是黑色粗麻布长袍。牛车上点着无数支蜡烛，因此可以清楚地看到车上的一切。两个也穿着同样的粗麻布衣的魔鬼牵着牛车。魔鬼的面目太丑了，桑乔只看了一眼，就不敢再看。牛车来到哨位前站住了。那位令人肃然起敬的老者从他那高高的座椅上站起来，大声说道：
“我是智者利尔甘多。”
他不再说什么，牛车继续向前走。随之而来的是另外一辆样式完全相同的牛车，以及另外一位傲慢的老者。老者让牛车停下，也同样威严地说道：
“我是智者阿尔基费，是不可莫测的乌尔甘达的老朋友。”
牛车继续向前走，接着又来了一辆牛车。不过，这回车上坐的不像刚才那两辆车上的老者，而是一个身体强壮、面目丑恶的彪形大汉。他一到，就像刚才那两个人一样站起来，声音更响亮、更可怕地说道：
“我是魔法师阿卡劳斯，是高卢的阿马迪斯和他所有亲属的死对头。”
牛车继续向前走。三辆牛车走出不远便停住了，车轮那种刺耳的声音也随之而止，接着便是一种轻柔悦耳的音乐。桑乔听了很高兴，觉得这是个好兆头。他一直呆在公爵夫人身旁，此时便对公爵夫人说道：
“夫人，有音乐就不会有麻烦事了。”
“有光亮的地方也不会有麻烦事。”公爵夫人说。
桑乔说道：
“火产生光，火堆发出亮。现在火已经向我们靠近，很可能要烧着我们了。不过，音乐毕竟是欢乐和节日的征兆。”
“咱们看看再说吧。唐吉诃德听了桑乔的话说道。
唐吉诃德说对了。详情请看下章。