Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (97 page)

Don Quixote laughed at Sancho Panza’s rustic praise, though it seemed to him that aside from his lady Dulcinea of Toboso, he had never seen a more beautiful woman. Fair Quiteria seemed somewhat pale, and it must have been because of the sleepless night that brides always experience as they prepare for their wedding on the following day. The wedding party was approaching a stage on one side of the meadow, adorned with carpets and bouquets of flowers, where the marriage would take place and from which they would watch the dances and dramatic inventions, and as they reached this spot, they heard shouts behind them, and one voice cried out, saying:

“Wait a little, you who are as thoughtless as you are hasty.”

At these shouts and words, everyone turned around and saw that the one who had called out was a man dressed, apparently, in a black cassock decorated with fiery red strips of cloth. He was crowned—as they later saw—with a wreath of funereal cypress, and in his hands he held a large staff. As he came closer, everyone recognized the gallant Basilio, and everyone was in suspense, waiting to see the outcome of his shouts and his words and fearing the worst from his appearing at that time.

At last he stopped, tired and breathless, before the bride and groom and thrust his staff, which had a steel tip at one end, into the ground; his color changed, he fixed his eyes on Quiteria, and in a hoarse, trembling voice he said:

“You know very well, O forgetful Quiteria, that according to the holy laws which we profess, as long as I am alive you cannot take a husband; and you are not unaware that, as I waited for time and my diligence to improve my fortune, I have not failed to maintain the decorum that your honor demanded; but you, turning your back on all the obligations you owe to my honest desires, wish to make another the lord and master of what is mine, for his riches bring him not only good fortune but even greater happiness. And so, to fill his cup of joy to the brim, not because I think he deserves it but because heaven wishes to grant it to him, I, with my own hands, will take down the obstacle or impediment that may hin
der him by removing myself from the scene. Long live rich Camacho, and with the thankless Quiteria may he live many long and happy years, and death, death to poor Basilio, whose poverty cut the wings of his contentment and sent him to the grave!”

And saying this, he seized the staff that he had thrust into the ground, and leaving half of it in the earth, he showed that it served as a sheath for a medium-size sword that was hidden inside; and after placing what could be called the hilt in the ground, with swift agility and resolute purpose he threw himself on it, and in a moment the bloody tip emerged from his back, along with half the steel blade, and the unhappy man lay on the ground, bathed in his own blood and run through by his own weapon.

His friends hurried over to help him, grief-stricken at his misery and his pitiable misfortune; leaving Rocinante, Don Quixote hurried to help him, and took him in his arms, and discovered that he had not yet expired. Some wished to remove the sword, but the priest, who was present, thought it should not be withdrawn until he had heard his confession, because as soon as it was removed he would die. But Basilio began to revive, and in a faint, sorrowful voice, he said:

“If you should wish, O cruel Quiteria, to give me your hand in marriage in my final dying moment, then I think my temerity might find forgiveness, for with it I achieved the good of being yours.”

When the priest heard this, he told him to attend to the well-being of his soul rather than to the pleasures of his body and to beg God very sincerely to pardon his sins and his act of despair. To which Basilio replied that under no circumstances would he make his confession until Quiteria gave him her hand in marriage: that joy would strengthen his will and give him the courage to confess.

Don Quixote, hearing the request of the wounded man, said in a loud voice that Basilio was asking for something very fair and reasonable and, moreover, very easy to do, and that Señor Camacho would be just as honored receiving Señora Quiteria as the widow of the valiant Basilio as if he had received her from her father’s side:

“Here only one vow will be made, and its only effect will be the saying of it, for the nuptial bed of this marriage will be the grave.”

Camacho heard all of this, and all of this confused and baffled him and he did not know what to do or say, but the voices of Basilio’s friends were so clamorous, asking him to consent to Quiteria’s giving her hand to Basilio so that his soul would not be condemned by leaving this life in despair, that he was moved, perhaps even forced, to say that if Quiteria
wished to do so, then he was content, for it meant delaying only for a moment the fulfillment of his desires.

Then they all turned to Quiteria, and some with pleas, and others with tears, and still others with persuasive arguments, urged her to give her hand to poor Basilio; she, as hard as marble and as motionless as a statue, showed that she could not and would not and did not wish to say a word, and she would not have responded at all if the priest had not told her to decide quickly what she was going to do, because Basilio’s soul was between his teeth, and there was no time for her to be irresolute or indecisive.

Then fair Quiteria, without saying a word, but perturbed and apparently sad and sorrowful, went toward Basilio, whose eyes were turned up and whose breath was quick and hurried, and who was whispering to himself the name of Quiteria, giving every indication that he would die like a heathen and not like a Christian. Finally, when she reached him, Quiteria fell to her knees and signaled for his hand, not asking for it with words. Basilio rolled down his eyes, and looking at her intently, he said:

“O, Quiteria, you have become merciful at a time when your mercy will serve as the knife that finally ends my life, for I no longer have the strength to bear the glory you have given me by choosing me for your own, or to hold back the pain that so quickly covers my eyes with the fearful shadow of death! What I implore, O my fatal star, is that you not ask for my hand nor give me yours out of a sense of duty, or to deceive me again, but because you confess and admit that of your own free will you give and present it to me as your legitimate husband, for it is not right that you deceive me at a moment like this, or use any pretense with one who has been so truthful with you.”

As he said these words he fainted, and all those present thought that each time he fainted his soul would be carried away. Quiteria, filled with modesty and embarrassment, took Basilio’s right hand in her own and said:

“No power is strong enough to turn my will, and so, with the freest will I have, I give you my hand as your legitimate wife, and I receive yours, if you give it to me of your own free will, unclouded and unchanged by the calamity your hasty action has brought you to.”

“I do,” responded Basilio, “not clouded, not confused, but with the clear understanding it has pleased heaven to give to me, and so I give myself and surrender myself to you to be your husband.”

“And I give myself to be your wife,” responded Quiteria, “whether you live for many long years or are taken now from my arms and carried to your grave.”

“For someone who’s so badly wounded,” said Sancho Panza, “this young man certainly talks a lot; they should make him stop his courting and pay attention to his soul, which in my opinion is more on his tongue than between his teeth.”

Then, as Basilio and Quiteria held hands, the priest, tenderhearted and weeping, gave them his blessing and asked heaven to rest the soul of the newly wed husband, who, as soon as he had received the blessing, leaped with great agility to his feet and with remarkable ease pulled out the sword that had been sheathed in his body.

All the onlookers were astonished, and some of them, more simpleminded than inquisitive, began to shout:

“A miracle, a miracle!”

But Basilio replied:

“Not ‘a miracle, a miracle,’ but ingenuity, ingenuity!”

The priest, confused and bewildered, hurried to touch the wound with both hands, and he discovered that the blade had passed not through the flesh and ribs of Basilio, but through a hollow metal tube filled with blood, which he had carefully placed there; as it was later learned, he had prepared the blood so it would not congeal.

In short, the priest, Camacho, and all the bystanders considered themselves fooled and deceived. The bride showed no signs of regretting the trick; rather, when she heard someone say that the wedding, because it had been deceitful, could not be valid, she said that she confirmed it again; everyone concluded that she had known about and consented to the ruse, and this so angered Camacho and his companions that they took their vengeance into their own hands, unsheathed many swords, and attacked Basilio, and in an instant almost as many swords were drawn in his defense. And at their head rode Don Quixote, who, with his lance at the ready and his shield on his arm, forced everyone to make way for him. Sancho, who never took pleasure or solace from such exploits, took refuge among the cauldrons where he had made his happy skimmings, for he thought the place was sacred and had to be respected. Don Quixote, in a great voice, shouted:

“Hold, Señores, hold, for it is not right to take revenge for the offenses that love commits; you should know that love and war are the same, and just as in war it is legitimate and customary to make use of tricks and stratagems to conquer the enemy, so in the contests and rivalries of love the lies and falsehoods used to achieve a desired end are considered fair, as long as they do not discredit or dishonor the beloved. Quiteria belonged to Basilio and Basilio to Quiteria, by the just and fa
vorable disposition of heaven. Camacho is rich, and can buy whenever, and wherever, and whatever he desires. Basilio has only this sheep, and no man, no matter how powerful, can take her from him; those whom God has joined let no man put asunder, and if any wishes to try, he will first have to pass by the point of this lance.”

And saying this, he brandished his lance with so much strength and dexterity that he filled all who did not know him with fear; Quiteria’s disdain was fixed so firmly in Camacho’s imagination that in an instant he erased her from his memory, and so he was persuaded by the arguments of the priest, a prudent, well-intentioned man, and he and his supporters were calmed and appeased; and to indicate this they returned their swords to their sheathes, blaming Quiteria’s complaisance more than Basilio’s ingenuity, and Camacho reasoned that if Quiteria truly loved Basilio as a maiden, she would also love him as a married woman, and that he ought to give thanks to heaven for taking her away instead of giving her to him.

Since Camacho and his followers were consoled and appeased, all of Basilio’s supporters became calm, and rich Camacho, in order to show that he did not resent the trick or consider it of any importance, decided that the celebration should go on as if he really had been married; but Basilio and his wife and their followers did not wish to attend, and so they went to Basilio’s village, for poor men who are virtuous and intelligent can also have people who follow, honor, and assist them, just as the wealthy have those who flatter and accompany them.

They took Don Quixote with them, deeming him a man of great valor and courage. Only Sancho’s soul was full of gloom when he found it impossible to stay for Camacho’s splendid food and celebrations, which would go on until nightfall; and so, wretched and sad, he followed his master, who was riding away with Basilio’s party, and left behind the cauldrons of Egypt, though he carried them in his heart, and his almost entirely consumed and eaten skimmings, which he carried in the pot, represented for him the glory and abundance of the good he was losing; and so, grieving and pensive, though not hungry, and without dismounting the donkey, he followed in Rocinante’s footsteps.

CHAPTER XXII

Great and many were the gifts presented to Don Quixote by the newlyweds, who were indebted to him for the actions he had taken in defense of their cause; they deemed his intelligence equal to his courage, considering him a Cid in arms and a Cicero in eloquence. Our good Sancho had a wonderful time for three days at the couple’s expense; from them he learned that the scheme to feign a wound had not been communicated to fair Quiteria but was Basilio’s idea; he had hoped to achieve with it exactly what occurred; it is certainly true that he confessed to sharing part of his thinking with some of his friends, so that when it was necessary they would favor his plan and support his deception.

“They cannot and should not be called deceptions,” said Don Quixote, “since their purpose was virtuous.”

And two lovers marrying was a most excellent purpose, but he warned that the greatest adversary love has is hunger and continual need, because love is all joy, happiness, and contentment, especially when the lover is in possession of the beloved, and its declared enemies are want and poverty; he was saying all of this so that Señor Basilio would stop practicing the skills he knew, for although they brought him fame, they did not bring him money, and attend to acquiring wealth by licit and industrious means, which the prudent and diligent never lack.

“The honorable poor man, if a poor man can be honorable, possesses a jewel when he has a beautiful wife, and when that is taken from him, his honor is taken away and destroyed. The beautiful, honorable woman whose husband is poor deserves to be crowned with laurels and palms of
victory and triumph. Beauty, in and of itself, attracts the desires of all who look upon it and recognize it, and royal eagles and high-flying birds swoop down for it as if it were savory bait, but if this beauty is joined to need and want, it is also attacked by crows, kites, and other birds of prey, and the woman who stands firm through so many encounters surely deserves to be called her husband’s crown. Look, my clever friend Basilio,” added Don Quixote, “it was believed by some wise man or other that there was only one virtuous woman in the entire world, and he advised each man to think and believe that the one virtuous woman was his wife, and in this way he would live contentedly. I am not married, and so far it has not even crossed my mind to marry, and yet I should dare to counsel any man who asks my advice how to find the woman he wishes to marry. First, I should advise him to consider her reputation more than her wealth, because the virtuous woman does not achieve a good reputation simply by being good, but by appearing to be good; women’s honor is damaged more by public liberties and acts of boldness than by secret iniquities. If you bring a virtuous woman to your house, it will be easy to maintain and even improve that virtue, but if she is immoral, it will be a formidable task to change her, for it is not very likely that she will pass from one extreme to another. I do not say it is impossible, but I consider it extremely difficult.”