Don Quixote Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (mobile ebook reader .txt) 📖

cried the housekeeper at this: “did not my heart tell the truth as to which foot my master went lame of? To bed with your worship at once, and we will contrive to cure you here without fetching that Hurgada. A curse I say once more, and a hundred times more, on those books of chivalry that have brought your worship to such a pass.”

They carried him to bed at once, and after searching for his wounds could find none, but he said they were all bruises from having had a severe fall with his horse Rocinante when in combat with ten giants, the biggest and the boldest to be found on earth.

“So, so!” said the curate, “are there giants in the dance? By the sign of the Cross I will burn them tomorrow before the day over.”

They put a host of questions to Don Quixote, but his only answer to all was⁠—give him something to eat, and leave him to sleep, for that was what he needed most. They did so, and the curate questioned the peasant at great length as to how he had found Don Quixote. He told him, and the nonsense he had talked when found and on the way home, all which made the licentiate the more eager to do what he did the next day, which was to summon his friend the barber, Master Nicholas, and go with him to Don Quixote’s house.

VI

Of the diverting and important scrutiny which the curate and the barber made in the library of our ingenious gentleman.

He was still sleeping; so the curate asked75 the niece for the keys of the room where the books, the authors of all the mischief, were, and right willingly she gave them. They all went in, the housekeeper with them, and found more than a hundred volumes of big books very well bound, and some other small ones.76 The moment the housekeeper saw them she turned about and ran out of the room, and came back immediately with a saucer of holy water and a sprinkler, saying, “Here, your worship, señor licentiate, sprinkle this room; don’t leave any magician of the many there are in these books to bewitch us in revenge for our design of banishing them from the world.”

The simplicity of the housekeeper made the licentiate laugh, and he directed the barber to give him the books one by one to see what they were about, as there might be some to be found among them that did not deserve the penalty of fire.

“No,” said the niece, “there is no reason for showing mercy to any of them; they have every one of them done mischief; better fling them out of the window into the court and make a pile of them and set fire to them; or else carry them into the yard, and there a bonfire can be made without the smoke giving any annoyance.”77 The housekeeper said the same, so eager were they both for the slaughter of those innocents, but the curate would not agree to it without first reading at any rate the titles.

The first that Master Nicholas put into his hand was The Four Books of Amadís of Gaul. “This seems a mysterious thing,” said the curate, “for, as I have heard say, this was the first book of chivalry printed in Spain, and from this all the others derive their birth and origin;78 so it seems to me that we ought inexorably to condemn it to the flames as the founder of so vile a sect.”

“Nay, sir,” said the barber, “I too, have heard say that this is the best of all the books of this kind that have been written, and so, as something singular in its line, it ought to be pardoned.”

“True,” said the curate; “and for that reason let its life be spared for the present. Let us see that other which is next to it.”

“It is,” said the barber, “the Sergas de Esplandián, the lawful son of Amadís of Gaul.”79

“Then verily,” said the curate, “the merit of the father must not be put down to the account of the son. Take it, mistress housekeeper; open the window and fling it into the yard and lay the foundation of the pile for the bonfire we are to make.”

The housekeeper obeyed with great satisfaction, and the worthy Esplandián went flying into the yard to await with all patience the fire that was in store for him.

“Proceed,” said the curate.

“This that comes next,” said the barber, “is Amadís of Greece,80 and, indeed, I believe all those on this side are of the same Amadís lineage.”

“Then to the yard with the whole of them,” said the curate; “for to have the burning of Queen Pintiquiniestra, and the shepherd Darinel and his eclogues, and the bedevilled and involved discourses of his author, I would burn with them the father who begot me if he were going about in the guise of a knight-errant.”

“I am of the same mind,” said the barber.

“And so am I,” added the niece.

“In that case,” said the housekeeper, “here, into the yard with them!”

They were handed to her, and as there were many of them, she spared herself the staircase, and flung them down out of the window.

“Who is that tub there?” said the curate.

“This,” said the barber, “is Don Olivante de Laura.”81

“The author of that book,” said the curate, “was the same that wrote The Garden of Flowers, and truly there is no deciding which of the two books is the more truthful, or, to put it better, the less lying; all I can say is, send this one into the yard for a swaggering fool.”

“This that follows is Florismarte of Hircania,” said the barber.82

“Señor Florismarte here?” said the curate; “then by my faith