Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (147 page)

“It’ll be fine if the flames don’t burn me and the devils don’t carry me off.”

Don Quixote looked at him as well, and although fear had stunned his senses he could not help laughing at Sancho’s appearance. At this point the soft, pleasant music of flutes began to be heard, coming, apparently, from beneath the catafalque, and, unconstrained by any human voice, because in that place silence imposed silence on itself, the music sounded gentle and amorous. Then suddenly, next to the pillow of what was, apparently, a corpse, there appeared a handsome youth dressed in Roman fashion, and to the sound of a harp that he played himself, in a soft, clear voice he sang these two stanzas:

“No more,” said one of the two who seemed to be monarchs, “no more, divine singer, for it would mean continuing into infinity if you were to represent for us now the death and charms of the peerless Altisidora, who is not dead, as the ignorant world thinks, but alive on the tongues of Fame, and in the punishment that Sancho Panza, here present, must undergo in order to return her to the light she has lost; and so you, Rhadamanthus,
³
who judges with me in the gloomy caverns of Dis,
⁴
and who knows everything that has been determined by the inscrutable Fates regarding the return of this maiden to life, speak and declare it now so that the good we expect from her return to a new life is no longer delayed.”

As soon as Minos, judge and companion of Rhadamanthus, had spoken, Rhadamanthus rose to his feet and said:

“Ho, officials of this house, both high and low, great and small, come one after the other and mark the face of Sancho with twenty-four slaps to the nose, and twelve pinches and six pinpricks on his arms and back, for the welfare of Altisidora depends on this ceremony!”
Hearing this, Sancho Panza broke the silence and said:

“By God, I’m as likely to become a Moor as to let anybody mark my face or slap my nose! By my faith! What does slapping my face have to do with the resurrection of this maiden? The old woman liked the greens so much…
⁵
They enchant Dulcinea, and whip me to disenchant her; Altisidora dies of ills that God sent her, and they’ll bring her back by slapping me twenty-four times and riddling my body with pinpricks, and pinching my arms black and blue! Try those tricks on your brother-in-law! I’m an old dog, and you don’t have to call me twice!”

“You will die!” said Rhadamanthus in a loud voice. “Soften your heart, tiger; humble yourself, proud Nimrod, and suffer and be silent, for you are not being asked to do the impossible. And do not become involved in determining the difficulties of this business: slapped you must be, riddled with holes you must be, and pinched until you moan. Ho, I say, officials, obey my commands, or by the faith of a virtuous man, you will find out why you were born!”

At that moment some six duennas appeared, crossing the courtyard in procession, one after the other, four of them wearing spectacles, and all of them holding up their right hands, with four finger widths of wrist exposed to make their hands seem longer, following the current fashion. As soon as Sancho saw them, he bellowed like a bull, saying:

“I might let myself be handled by the whole world, but consenting to being touched by duennas, never! Let cats claw my face, as they did to my master in this very castle; let them run my body through with sharpened daggers; let them tear at the flesh of my arms with red hot pincers, and I’ll bear it all patiently to serve these gentlemen, but I won’t consent to duennas touching me even if the devil carries me off.”

Don Quixote broke the silence, too, saying to Sancho:

“Be patient, my friend, and oblige these gentlemen, and give many thanks to heaven for having placed such virtue in your person that through its martyrdom you can disenchant the enchanted and resuscitate the dead.”

By now the duennas were close to Sancho, and he, more docile and convinced, settled himself in his chair and held up his face and beard to the first duenna, who gave him a very sharp slap, followed by a very deep curtsy.

“Less courtesy, and less face paint, Señora Duenna,” said Sancho, “because, by God, your hands smell of
vinagrillo!”
⁶

Finally, all the duennas marked him, and many other people from the house pinched him, but what he could not endure were the pinpricks, and so he got out of his chair, apparently angry, and grasping one of the burning torches that was near him, he chased after the duennas, and all his other tormentors, saying:

“Away, ministers of hell! I’m not made of bronze! I feel your awful tortures!”

At this point Altisidora, who must have been tired after spending so much time supine, turned to one side, and when the onlookers saw this, almost all of them cried out in unison:

“Altisidora is alive! Altisidora lives!”

Rhadamanthus ordered Sancho to set aside his wrath, for their intended purpose had been achieved.

As soon as Don Quixote saw Altisidora begin to move, he fell to his knees before Sancho, saying:

“Now it is time, friend of my soul rather than my squire, to give yourself some of the lashes to which you are obliged in order to disenchant Dulcinea. Now, I say, is the time when your virtue is ripe and ready to perform the good deed that is expected of you.”

To which Sancho responded:

“This seems like one dirty trick on top of another, and not honey on hotcakes. How nice it would be after pinches, slaps, and pinpricks to have a few lashes. Why not just take a big stone and tie it around my neck and put me in a well, and I won’t mind it too much since I have to be a laughingstock in order to solve other people’s problems. Let me alone; if not, I swear I’ll knock down and destroy everything, and I don’t care what happens.”

By this time Altisidora had sat up on the catalfaque, and at the same instant flageolets began to play, accompanied by flutes and the sound of everyone’s voices, crying:

“Long live Altisidora! Altisidora, long may she live!”

The duke and duchess rose to their feet, as did Kings Minos and Rhadamanthus, and all of them together, along with Don Quixote and Sancho, went to greet Altisidora and take her down from the catafalque, and she, pretending to be faint, curtsied to the duke and duchess and to the kings, and looking at Don Quixote out of the corner of her eye, she said to him:

“God forgive you, coldhearted knight, for because of your cruelty I have been in the next world for more than a thousand years, it seems to me; and you, the most compassionate squire on earth, I thank you for the life I possess! Today, friend Sancho, I promise you will have six chemises
of mine to use to make six shirts for yourself, and if some are torn, at least they are all clean.”

Sancho kissed her hands in gratitude for the present, with his knees on the ground and the cone-shaped hat in his hand. The duke ordered that it be taken from him and his own cap returned, and they put on his tunic and took off the garment with the flames. Sancho asked the duke to allow him to keep the robe and mitre, for he wanted to take them back to his own village as a keepsake and memento of that incomparable event. The duchess responded that he could, for he already knew what a great friend of his she was. The duke ordered the courtyard cleared, and everyone to withdraw to their own quarters, and Don Quixote and Sancho to be taken to the rooms they already knew from their previous visit.

CHAPTER LXX

That night Sancho slept on a low, small bed in the same room as Don Quixote, something that Sancho would have avoided if he could because he knew very well that with all his questions and answers, his master would not let him sleep, and he was not inclined to speak a great deal because the pains of his recent torments were very present and had done nothing to loosen his tongue, and he would have preferred to sleep in a hovel alone than in that rich chamber in the company of another. What he feared was so real and what he suspected so true, that as soon as his master climbed into his bed, he heard his master say:

“What do you think, Sancho, of what happened tonight? Great and powerful is the strength of love scorned, for with your own eyes you saw Altisidora dead, not by arrows or sword or any other instrument of war, or by deadly poison, but because of the harshness and disdain with which I have always treated her.”

“She was welcome to die as much as she wanted and however she wanted,” responded Sancho, “and to leave me alone, because I never fell in love with her or scorned her in my life. As I’ve said before, I don’t
know how it can be that Altisidora’s well-being, a maiden who’s more willful than wise, has anything to do with the sufferings of Sancho Panza. Now at last I see, clearly and distinctly, that there are enchanters and enchantments in the world, and may God save me from them because I don’t know how to save myself; even so, I beg your grace to let me sleep and not ask me anything else, unless you want me to throw myself out a window.”

“Then sleep, Sancho my friend,” responded Don Quixote, “if the pinpricks and pinches and slaps you have received allow you to sleep.”

“No pain,” replied Sancho, “was as great an insult as the slaps, simply because they were given to me by duennas, confound them; and again I beg your grace to let me sleep, because it relieves the miseries we feel when we’re awake.”

“Then sleep,” said Don Quixote, “and God be with you.”

Both of them fell asleep, and during this time Cide Hamete, author of this great history, wished to write and give an account of what moved the duke and duchess to devise the elaborate scheme that has just been narrated; he says that Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, not having forgotten when the Knight of the Mirrors was vanquished and overthrown by Don Quixote, a defeat and a fall that ruined and destroyed all his plans, wanted to try his hand again, hoping for better success than before; and so, learning from the page who carried the letter and gift to Teresa Panza, Sancho’s wife, where Don Quixote was, he found new arms and another horse, and on his shield he put the white moon and had all of it carried by a mule led by a peasant and not Tomé Cecial, his former squire, so that he would not be recognized by Sancho or Don Quixote.

And so he came to the castle of the duke, who informed him of the direction and route Don Quixote had taken and of his intention to appear in the jousts at Zaragoza. He also told him of the tricks that had been played on Don Quixote and of the scheme for disenchanting Dulcinea that would have to take place at the expense of Sancho’s hindquarters. Finally, he recounted the trick that Sancho had played on his master, leading him to believe that Dulcinea had been enchanted and transformed into a peasant girl, and how his wife, the duchess, led Sancho to believe that he was the one deceived because Dulcinea really was enchanted; the bachelor laughed a good deal and marveled as he considered Sancho’s shrewdness and simplicity, and the extremes of Don Quixote’s madness.

The duke asked if he found Don Quixote, and regardless of whether he defeated him or not, that he return and tell him what had occurred.
The bachelor agreed and set out to look for him; he did not find him in Zaragoza and continued on his way, and what has already been related happened to him.

He returned to the castle of the duke and told him everything, including the conditions of their combat, and he said that Don Quixote was already returning home to keep, like a good knight errant, his promise to withdraw to his village for a year, in which time it might be, said the bachelor, that his madness would be cured; for this was the purpose that had moved him to assume those disguises, since it was a sad thing for a gentleman as intelligent as Don Quixote to be mad. With this, he took his leave of the duke and returned to his village and waited there for Don Quixote, who was riding behind him.

This gave the duke the opportunity to arrange the deception: such was the pleasure he derived from matters concerning Sancho and Don Quixote; he sent out many of his servants on foot and on horseback to search roads close to and far from the castle, all the ones he imagined Don Quixote might use to return home, so that either willingly or by force they could bring him back to the castle if they found him. They did find him, and they so informed the duke, who had already arranged what was to be done, and as soon as he had been informed of their arrival, he ordered the torches lit, and the lamps placed in the courtyard, and Altisidora to climb the catafalque, and all the devices that have been recounted performed so vividly and realistically that there was very little difference between them and the truth.

Cide Hamete goes on to say that in his opinion the deceivers are as mad as the deceived, and that the duke and duchess came very close to seeming like fools since they went to such lengths to deceive two fools, who, one sleeping soundly and the other keeping watch over his unrestrained thoughts, were overtaken by daylight and filled with the desire to arise, for the featherbeds of idleness never gave pleasure to Don Quixote, whether he was the vanquished or the victor.

Altisidora—restored to life, in Don Quixote’s opinion—followed the whim of her master and mistress, and crowned with the same garland she had worn on the catafalque, and dressed in a tunic of white taffeta sown with gold flowers, and with her hair hanging loose down her back, and leaning on a staff of fine black ebony, she entered Don Quixote’s room; her presence disquieted and confused him, and he covered and concealed himself almost completely under the sheets and blankets on the bed, his tongue silenced, unable to utter a single courtesy. Altisidora sat
on a chair near the head of his bed, and after heaving a great sigh, in a faint and piteous voice she said: