|
The Fourth BookChapter IX.
Chapter IX.
Which Treats of Many Rare Successes Befallen in the Inn
Whilst they discoursed thus, the innkeeper, who stood all the while at
the door, said, `Here comes a fair troop of guests, and if they will here
alight we may sing Gaudeamus.` `What folk is it?` quoth Cardenio. `Four men on
horseback,` quoth the host, `and ride jennet - wise, with lances and targets,
and masks on their faces; and with them comes likewise a woman apparelled in
white, in a side - saddle, and her face also masked, and two lackeys that run
with them a - foot.` `Are they near?` quoth the curate. `So near,` replied the
innkeeper, `as they do now arrive.` Dorothea hearing him say so, covered her
face, and Cardenio entered into Don Quixote`s chamber; and scarce had they
leisure to do it, when the others of whom the host spake, entered into the
inn, and the four horsemen alighting, which were all of very comely and
gallant disposition, they went to help down the lady that rode in the side -
saddle, and one of them taking her down in his arms, did seat her in a chair
that stood at the chamber door, into which Cardenio had entered: and all this
while neither she nor they took off their masks, or spake a word, only the
gentlewoman, at her sitting down in the chair, breathed forth a very deep
sigh, and let fall her arms like a sick and dismayed person. The lackeys
carried away their horses to the stable. Master curate seeing and noting all
this, and curious to know what they were that came to the inn in so unwonted
an attire, and kept such profound silence therein, went to the lackeys and
demanded of one of them that which he desired to know, who answered, `In good
faith, sir, I cannot tell you what folk this is: only this I know, that they
seem to be very noble, but chiefly he that went and took down the lady in his
arms that you see there; and this I say, because all the others do respect him
very much, and nothing is done but what he ordains and commands,` `And the
lady, what is she?` quoth the curate. `I can as hardly inform you,` quoth the
lackey, `for I have not once seen her face in all this journey; yet I have
heard her often groan and breathe out so profound sighs, as it seems she would
give up the ghost at every one of them. And it is no marvel that we should
know no more than we have said, for my companion and myself have been in their
company but two days; for they encountered us on the way, and prayed and
persuaded us to go with them unto Andalusia, promising that they would
recompense our pains largely.` `And hast thou heard them name one another?`
said the curate. `No, truly,` answered the lackey; `for they all travel with
such silence, as it is a wonder; for you shall not hear a word among, but the
sighs and throbs of the poor lady, which do move in us very great compassion.
And we do questionless persuade ourselves that she is forced wheresoever she
goes: and as it may be collected by her attire, she is a nun, or, as is most
probable, goes to be one; and perhaps she goeth so sorrowful as it seems
because she hath no desire to become religious.` `It may very well be so,`
quoth the curate. And so leaving them, he returned to the place where he had
left Dorothea; who, hearing the disguised lady to sigh so often, moved by the
native compassion of that sex, drew near her and said, `What ails you, good
madam? I pray you think if it be any of those inconveniences to which woman be
subject, and whereof they may have use and experience to cure them, I do offer
unto you my service, assistance, and good - will to help you, as much as lies
in my power.` To all those compliments the doleful lady answered nothing; and
although Dorothea made her again larger offers of her service, yet stood she,
ever silent, until the bemasked gentleman (whom the lackey said the rest did
obey) came over and said to Dorothea, `Lady, do not trouble yourself to offer
anything to that woman, for she is of a most ungrateful nature, and is never
wont to gratify any courtesy, nor do you seek her to answer unto your demands,
if you would not hear some lie from her mouth.` `I never said any,` quoth the
silent lady, `but rather because I am so true and sincere, without guiles, I
am now drowned here in those misfortunes; and of this I would have thyself
bear witness, seeing my pure truth makes thee to be so false and disloyal.`
Cardenio overheard those words very clear and distinctly, as one that
stood so near unto her that said them, as only Don Quixote`s chamber door
stood between them. And instantly when he heard them, he said with a very loud
voice, `Good God! what is this that I hear? What voice is this that hath
touched mine ear?` The lady, moved with a sudden pession, turned her head at
those outcries, and seeing she could not perceive him that gave them, she got
up, and would have entered into the room, which the gentleman espying,
withheld her, and would not let her stir out of the place: and with the
alteration and sudden motion the mask fell off her face, and she discovered an
incomparable beauty, and an angelical countenance, although it was somewhat
wan and pale, and turned here and there with her eyes to every place so
earnestly as she seemed to be distracted; which motions, without knowing the
reason why they were made, struck Dorothea and the rest that beheld her into
very great compassion. The gentleman holding her very strongly fast by the
shoulders, the mask he wore on his own face was falling; and he being so
busied could not hold it up, but in the end [it] fell wholly. Dorothea, who
had likewise embraced the lady, lifting up her eyes by chance, saw that he
which did also embrace the lady was her spouse Don Fernando; and scarce had
she known him, when, breathing out a long and most pitiful `Alas!` from the
bottom of her heart, she fell backward in a trance; and if the barber had not
been by good hap at hand, she would have fallen on the ground with all the
weight of her body. The curate presently repaired to take off the veil of her
face and cast water thereon: and as soon as he did discover it, Don Fernando,
who was he indeed that held fast the other, knew her, and looked like a dead
man as soon as he viewed her, but did not all this while let go Lucinda, who
was the other whom he held so fast, and that laboured so much to escape out of
his hands. Cardenio likewise heard the `Alas!` that Dorothea said when she
fell into a trance, and, believing that it was his Lucinda, issued out of the
chamber greatly altered, and the first he espied was Don Fernando, which held
Lucinda fast, who forthwith knew him. And all the three - Lucinda, Cardenio,
and Dorothea - stood dumb and amazed, as folk that knew not what had befallen
unto them. All of them held their peace, and beheld one another; Dorothea
looked on Don Fernando, Don Fernando on Cardenio, Cardenio on Lucinda, and
Lucinda again on Cardenio; but Lucinda was the first that broke silence,
speaking to Don Fernando in this manner: `Leave me off, Lord Fernando, I
conjure thee, by that thou shouldst be; for that which thou art, if thou wilt
not do it for any other respect; let me cleave to the wall whose ivy I am; to
the supporter from whom neither thy importunity nor threats, promises or
gifts, could once deflect me. Note how Heaven, by unusual, unfrequented, and
from us concealed ways, hath set my true spouse before mine eyes; and thou
dost know well, by a thousand costly experiences, that only death is potent to
blot forth his remembrance out of my memory. Let, then, so manifest truths be
of power (if thou must do none other) to convert thine affliction into rage,
and thy good - will into despite, and therewithal end my life; for if I may
render up the ghost in the presence of my dear spouse, I shall account it
fortunately lost. Perhaps by my death he will remain satisfied of the faith
which I have kept sincere towards him until the last period of my life.` By
this time Dorothea was come to herself, and listened to most of Lucinda`s
reasons, and by them came to the knowledge of herself. But seeing Don Fernando
did not yet let her depart from between his arms, nor answer anything to her
words, encouraging herself the best that she might, she arose, and, kneeling
at his feet, and shedding a number of crystal and penetrating tears, she spoke
to him thus:
`If it be not so, my lord, that the beams of that sun which thou holdest
eclipsed between thine arms do darken and deprive those of thine eyes, thou
mightest have by this perceived how she that is prostrated at thy feet is the
unfortunate (until thou shalt please) and the disastrous Dorothea. I am that
poor humble countrywoman whom thou, either through thy bounty, or for thy
pleasure, didst deign to raise to that height that she might call thee her
own. I am she which, some time immured within the limits of honesty, did lead
a most contented life, until it opened the gates of her recollection and
wariness to thine importunity, and seeming just and amorous requests, and
rendered up to thee the keys of her liberty; a gift by thee so ill
recompensed, as the finding myself in so remote a place as this wherein you
have met with me, and I seen you, may clearly testify; but yet for all this, I
would not have you to imagine that I come here guided by dishonourable steps,
being only hitherto conducted by the tracts of dolour and feeling, to see
myself thus forgotten by thee. It was thy will that I should be thine own, and
thou didst desire it in such a manner, as although now thou wouldst not have
it so, yet canst not thou possibly leave off to be mine. Know, my dear lord,
that the matchless affections that I do bear towards thee may recompense and
be equivalent to her beauty and nobility for whom thou dost abandon me.
`Thou canst` not be the beautiful Lucinda`s, because thou art mine; nor
she thine, forasmuch as she belongs to Cardenio; and it will be more easy, if
you will note it well, to reduce thy will to love her that adores thee, than
to address hers, that hates thee, to bear thee affection. Thou didst solicit
my recchelessness, thou prayedst to mine integrity, and wast not ignorant of
my quality; thou knowest also very well upon what terms I subjected myself to
thy will, so as there remains no place nor colour to term it a fraud or
deceit; and all this being so, as in verity it is, and that thou beest as
Christian as thou art noble, why dost thou with these so many untoward
wreathings dilate the making of mine end happy, whose commencement thou didst
illustrate so much? And if thou wilt not have me for what I am, who am thy
true and lawful spouse, yet at least take and admit me for thy slave, for so
that I may be in thy possession I will account myself happy and fortunate. Do
not permit that by leaving and abandoning me, meetings may be made to
discourse of my dishonour. Do not vex thus the declining years of my parents,
seeing that the loyal services which they ever have done as vassals to thine
deserve not so [dis]honest a recompense. And if thou esteemest that thy blood
by meddling with mine shall be stained or embased, consider how few noble
houses, or rather none at all, are there in the world which have not run the
same way, and that the woman`s side is not essentially requisite for the
illustrating of noble descents. How much more, seeing that true nobility
consists in virtue, which if it shall want in thee, by refusing that which
thou owest me so justly, I shall remain with many more degrees of nobility
than thou shalt. And in conclusion, that which I will lastly say is, that
whether thou wilt or no, I am thy wife; the witnesses are thine own words,
which neither should nor ought to lie, if thou dost esteem thyself to have
that for the want of which thou despisest me. Witness shall also be thine own
handwriting. Witness Heaven, which thou didst invoke to bear witness of that
which thou didst promise unto me: and when all this shall fail, thy very
conscience shall never fail from using clamours, being silent in thy mirth and
turning, for this truth which I have said to thee now shall trouble the
greatest pleasure and delight.`
These and many other like reasons did the sweetly grieved Dorothea use
with such feeling, as all those that were presents, as well such as
accompanied Don Fernando, and all the others that did accompany her, shed
abundance of tears. Don Fernando listened unto her without replying a word,
until she had ended her speech, and given beginning to so many sighs and sobs,
as the heart that could endure to behold them without moving were harder than
brass. Lucinda did also regard her, no less compassionate of her sorrow than
admired at her discretion and beauty, and although she would have approached
to her, and used some consolatory words, yet was she hindered by Don
Fernando`s arms, which held her still embraced, who, full of confusion and
marvel, after he had stood very attentively beholding Dorothea a good while,
opening his arms, and leaving Lucinda free, said, `Thou hast vanquished, O
beautiful Dorothea! thou hast vanquished me; for it is not possible to resist
or deny so many united truths.` Lucinda, through her former trance and
weakness, as Don Fernando left her, was like to fall, if Cardenio, who stood
behind Don Fernando all the while lest he should be known, shaking off all
fear and endangering his person, had not started forward to stay her from
falling; and, clasping her sweetly between his arms, he said, `If pitiful
Heaven be pleased, and would have thee now at last take some ease, my loyal,
constant, and beautiful lady, I presume that thou canst not possess it more
securely than between these arms which do now receive thee, as whilom they did
when fortune was pleased that I might call thee mine own.` And then Lucinda,
first severing her eyelids, beheld Cardenio, and having first taken notice of
him by his voice, and confirmed it again by her sight, like one quite
distracted, without further regarding modest respects, she cast both her arms
about his neck, and, joining her face to his, said, `Yea, thou indeed art my
lord; thou, the true owner of this poor captive, howsoever adverse fortune
shall thwart it, or this life, which is only sustained and lives by thine, be
ever so much threatened.` This was a marvellous spectacle to Don Fernando, and
all the rest of the beholders, which did universally admire at this so
unexpected an event. And Dorothea, perceiving Don Fernando to change colour,
as one resolving to take revenge on Cardenio, for he had set hand to his
sword, which she conjecturing, did with marvellous expedition kneel, and,
catching hold on his legs, kissing them, she strained them with so loving
embracements as he could not stir out of the place, and then, with her eyes
overflown with tears, said unto him, "What meanest thou to do, my only refuge
in this unexpected trance? Thou hast here thine own spouse at thy feet, and
her whom thou wouldst fain possess is between her own husband`s arms. Judge,
then, whether it become thee, or is a thing possible, to dissolve that which
Heaven hath knit, or whether it be anywise laudable to endeavour to raise and
equal to thyself her who, contemning all dangers and inconveniences, and
confirmed in faith and constancy, doth in thy presence bathe her eyes with
amorous liquor of her true love`s face and bosom. I desire thee for God`s
sake, and by thine own worths I request thee, that this so notorious a verity
may not only assuage thy choler, but also diminish it in such sort, as thou
mayst quietly and peaceably permit those two lovers to enjoy their desires
without any encumbrance all the time that Heaven shall grant it to them; and
herein thou shalt show the generosity of thy magnanimous and noble breast, and
give the world to understand how reason prevaileth in thee, and domineereth
over passion.` All the time that Dorothea spoke thus to Don Fernando, although
Cardenio held Lucinda between his arms, yet did he never take his eyes off Don
Fernando, with resolution that if he did see him once stir in his prejudice,
he would labour both to defend himself and offend his adversary and all those
who should join with him to do him any harm, as much as he could, although it
were with the rest of his life. But Don Fernando`s friends, the curate and
barber, that were present and saw all that was passed, repaired in the mean
season, without omitting the good Sancho Panza, and all of them together
compassed Don Fernando, entreating him to have regard of the beautiful
Dorothea`s tears, and it being true (as they believed it was) that she had
said, he should not permit her to remain defrauded of her so just and lawful
hopes, assuring him that it was not by chance, but rather by the particular
providence and disposition of the heavens, that they had all met together so
unexpectedly; and that he should remember, as master curate said very well,
that only death could sever Lucinda from her Cardenio; and that although the
edge of a sword might divide and part them asunder, yet in that case they
would account their death most happy; and that, in irremediless events, it was
highest prudence, by straining and overcoming himself, to show a generous
mind, and that he might conquer his own will, by permitting these two to enjoy
that good which Heaven had already granted to them; and that he should turn
his eyes to behold the beauty of Dorothea, and he should see that few or none
could for feature paragon with her, and much less excel her; and that he
should confer her humility and extreme love which she bore to him with her
other endowments: and principally, that if he gloried in the titles of
nobility or Christianity, he could not do any other than accomplish the
promise that he had passed to her; and that by fulfilling it he should please
God and satisfy discreet persons, which know very well how it is a special
prerogative of beauty, though it be in an humble and mean subject, if it be
consorted with modesty and virtue, to exalt and equal itself to any dignity,
without disparagement of him which doth help to raise or unite it to himself.
And when the strong laws of delight are accomplished (so that there intercur
no sin in the acting thereof), he is not to be condemned which doth follow
them. Finally, they added to these reasons others so many and forcible, that
the valorous breast of Don Fernando (as commonly all those that are warmed and
nourished by noble blood are wont) was mollified, and permitted itself to be
vanquished by that truth which he could not deny though he would. And the
token that he gave of his being overcome, was to stoop down and embrace
Dorothea, saying unto her, `Arise, lady; for it is not just that she be
prostrate at my feet whose image I have erected in my mind. And if I have not
hitherto given demonstrations of what I now aver, it hath perhaps befallen
through the disposition of Heaven, to the end I might, by noting the constancy
and faith wherewithal thou dost affect me, know after how to value and esteem
thee according unto thy merits. And that which in recompense thereof I do
entreat of thee is, that thou wilt excuse in me mine ill manner of proceeding
and exceeding carelessness in repaying thy good - will; for the very occasion
and violent passions that made me to accept thee as mine, the very same did
also impel me again not to be thine; and for the more verifying of mine
assertion, do but once behold the eyes of the now contented Lucinda, and thou
mayst read in them a thousand excuses for mine error; and seeing she hath
found and obtained her heart`s desire, and I have in thee also gotten what is
most convenient - for I wish she may live securely and joyfully many and happy
years with her Cardenio: for I will pray the same, that it will license me to
enjoy my beloved Dorothea.` And saying so, he embraced her again, and joined
his face to hers with so lovely motion, as it constrained him to hold watch
over his tears, lest violently bursting forth, they should give doubtless
arguments of his fervent love and remorse.
Cardenio, Lucinda, and almost all the rest could not do so, for the
greater number of them shed so many tears, some for their private
contentments, and others for their friends, as it seemed that some grievous
and heavy misfortune had betided them all; even very Sancho Panza wept,
although he excused it afterward, saying that he wept only because that he saw
that Dorothea was not the Queen Micomicona, as he had imagined, of whom he
hoped to have received so great gifts and favours. The admiration and tears
joined, endured in them all for a pretty space; and presently after, Cardenio
and Lucinda went and kneeled to Don Fernando, yielding him thanks for the
favour that he had done to them, with so courteous compliments as he knew not
what to answer, and therefore lifted them up, and embraced them with very
great affection and kindness, and presently after he demanded of Dorothea how
she came to that place, so far from her own dwelling. And she recounted unto
him all that she had told to Cardenio; whereat Don Fernando and those which
came with him took so great delight, as they could have wished that her story
had continued a longer time in the telling than it did - so great was
Dorothea`s grace in setting out her misfortunes. And as soon as she had ended,
Don Fernando told all that had befallen him in the city, after that he had
found the scroll in Lucinda`s bosom, wherein she declared Cardenio to be her
husband, and that he therefore could not marry her; and also how he attempted
to kill her, and would have done it, were it not that her parents hindered
him; and that he therefore departed out of the house, full of shame and
despite, with resolution to revenge himself more commodiously; and how he
understood the next day following, how Lucinda was secretly departed from her
father`s house, and gone nobody knew where, but that he finally learned within
a few months after, that she had entered into a certain monastery, with
intention to remain there all the days of her life, if she could not pass them
with Cardenio; and that as soon as he had learned that, choosing those three
gentlemen for his associates, he came to the place where she was, but would
not speak to her, fearing lest that, as soon as they knew of his being there,
they would increase the guards of the monastery; and therefore expected until
he found on a day the gates of the monastery open, and leaving two of his
fellows to keep the door, he with the other entered into the abbey in
Lucinda`s search, whom they found talking with a nun in the cloister; and,
snatching her away ere she could retire herself, they brought her to a certain
village, where they disguised themselves in that sort they were; for so it was
requisite for to bring her away: all which they did with the more facility,
that the monastery was seated abroad in the fields, a good way from any
village. He likewise told that, as soon as Lucinda saw herself in his power,
she fell into a swoon; and that, after she had returned to herself, she never
did any other thing but weep and sigh, without speaking a word; and that in
that manner, accompanied with silence and tears, they had arrived to that inn,
which was to him as grateful as an arrival to heaven, wherein all earthly
mishaps are concluded and finished.
|