Chapter XLIX. Of what befell Sancho Panza as he made the rounds of his isle

We left the great governor angry and out of sorts with the sly, portrait-painting farmer, who had been schooled by the steward, as the steward had been by the duke, and they were all making fun of Sancho; but he held his own against them all, for all that he was a fool, rough and roly-poly, and he said to those who were with him, and to Doctor Pedro Recio, who, now that the secret of the duke’s letter was over, had come back into the hall:

“Now I truly understand that judges and governors must be, or have to be, made of bronze, so as not to feel the pestering of the people who come on business, who at every hour and at all times want to be heard and dispatched, thinking only of their own business, come what may; and if the poor judge doesn’t hear them and dispatch them, either because he can’t or because it isn’t the time set aside for giving them a hearing, they curse him straightaway and gossip about him, and gnaw his bones, and even pick his lineage apart. You foolish petitioner, you halfwit petitioner, don’t be in such a hurry; wait for the right season and the right moment to do business: don’t come at dinnertime or at bedtime, for judges are made of flesh and bone and have to give nature what it naturally asks of them, except me, for I don’t give mine anything to eat, thanks to the Señor Doctor Pedro Recio Tirteafuera here before me, who wants me to die of hunger and declares that this death is life; may God give him the same, and all his breed: I mean the breed of bad physicians, for the good ones deserve palms and laurels.”

Everyone who knew Sancho Panza marveled to hear him speak so elegantly, and did not know what to put it down to, unless it was that offices and grave posts either season the understanding or stupefy it. At last Doctor Pedro Recio Agüero de Tirteafuera promised to give him supper that night, even if it went beyond all the aphorisms of Hippocrates. With this the governor was content, and he waited with great longing for night and suppertime to come; and though time, to his way of thinking, was standing still without moving from the spot, still the moment he so desired came at last, and they gave him for supper a cold salad of beef with onion and some boiled calves’ feet somewhat far gone in days. He fell to on all of it with more relish than if they had served him Milanese francolins, Roman pheasants, Sorrento veal, Morón partridges, or Lavajos geese; and, in the middle of supper, turning to the doctor, he said to him:

“Look, Señor Doctor: from now on don’t trouble to give me dainty things or exquisite dishes to eat, because that will be to knock my stomach off its hinges, which is used to goat, beef, bacon, salt meat, turnips, and onions; and if by chance it is given other palace dishes, it takes them squeamishly, and sometimes with disgust. What the table steward can do is bring me these things they call ollas podridas, rotten pots, for the more rotten they are, the better they smell, and he can pack and shut up in them anything he likes, so long as it’s something to eat, and I’ll thank him for it and repay him someday; and let nobody play jokes on me, because either we are or we aren’t: let’s all live and eat together in good peace and company, for when God sends the dawn, it dawns for everyone. I’ll govern this isle taking no bribe and losing no right, and let everyone keep his eyes open and look to his own arrow, because I give them notice that the devil is in Cantillana, and if they give me cause, they’ll see wonders. No, make yourself honey and the flies will eat you up.”

“Certainly, lord governor,” said the table steward, “your grace is very much in the right in all you have said, and I promise in the name of all the islanders of this isle that they will serve your grace with all punctuality, love, and goodwill, because the mild way of governing your grace has shown at these beginnings gives them no room to do or think anything that might turn to your grace’s disservice.”

“I believe it,” answered Sancho, “and they’d be fools if they did or thought otherwise. And I say again, let care be taken over my keep and over my gray’s, for that is what matters in this business and what counts most; and when it’s time, let’s go and make the rounds, for it’s my intention to clean this isle of every kind of filth and of vagabond, idle, and ill-occupied people; because I want you to know, friends, that idle and lazy people are the same in the commonwealth as drones in the hives, which eat the honey the worker bees make. I mean to favor the farmers, keep their privileges for the hidalgos, reward the virtuous, and above all have respect for religion and for the honor of the religious. What do you think of this, friends? Am I saying something, or am I just cracking my head?”

“Your grace says so much, lord governor,” said the steward, “that I am amazed to see a man as unlettered as your grace, who, as I believe, has no letters at all, say such things and so many, full of maxims and good counsel, so far beyond everything that those who sent us and those of us who came here expected of your grace’s wit. Every day new things are seen in the world: jests turn to earnest and the mockers find themselves mocked.”

Night came, and the governor had supper, by leave of Señor Doctor Recio. They made ready for the round; he went out with the steward, the secretary, and the table steward, and the chronicler who had the task of putting his deeds on record, and constables and notaries, so many that they could have made up a middling squadron. Sancho went in the middle, with his rod of office, which was a sight to see; and they had gone through only a few streets of the town when they heard the clash of swords; they hurried there, and found that it was just two men fighting, who, seeing the law coming, stood still; and one of them said:

“Help, in the name of God and the king! How can it be borne that people are robbed in a town, in this town, and that a man should come out and hold people up in it in the middle of the streets?”

“Easy, my good man,” said Sancho, “and tell me what this quarrel is about, for I am the governor.”

The other man, his opponent, said:

“Lord governor, I will tell it very briefly. Your grace must know that this gentleman has just now won more than a thousand reales in this gaming house here across the way, and God knows how; and, since I was present, I judged more than one doubtful throw in his favor, against everything my conscience dictated to me; he got up with his winnings, and when I expected him to give me an escudo at least as a winner’s tip, as it is the use and custom to give one to men of standing like me, who stand by for fair play and foul, to back up wrongs and head off quarrels, he pocketed his money and left the house. I came after him in a fury, and with good and courteous words I have asked him to give me at least eight reales, for he knows I am an honorable man and that I have neither office nor benefice, because my parents neither taught me one nor left me one; and the sly fellow, who is no more a thief than Cacus, nor more of a cardsharp than Andradilla, would not give me more than four reales; so your grace may see, lord governor, how little shame and how little conscience he has! But on my faith, if your grace had not come, I would have made him vomit up his winnings, and he would have learned how much the steelyard can take.”

“What do you say to this?” asked Sancho.

And the other answered that everything his opponent said was true, and that he had not wanted to give him more than four reales because he gave them to him often; and those who expect a tip must be modest and take with a cheerful face what they are given, without going into accounts with the winners, unless they know for certain that they are cardsharps and that what they win is ill won; and that as a sign that he was an honest man and not a thief, as the other said, there was none better than his not having wanted to give him anything; for cardsharps are always tributaries of the onlookers who know them.

“That is so,” said the steward. “Let your grace see, lord governor, what is to be done with these men.”

“What is to be done is this,” answered Sancho: “you, winner, good, bad, or indifferent, give this slasher of yours a hundred reales at once, and besides that you’re to pay out thirty for the poor in the jail; and you, who have neither office nor benefice and go about this isle with nothing to do, take those hundred reales at once, and some time tomorrow leave this isle, banished for ten years, on pain, if you break it, of serving them out in the next life, for I’ll hang you from a gibbet, or at least the hangman will, at my orders; and let nobody answer me back, or I’ll lay my hand on him.”

The one paid out, the other received, this one left the isle, and that one went home, and the governor was left saying:

“Now, either I’ll have very little power, or I’ll do away with these gaming houses, for it strikes me they do a great deal of harm.”

“This one, at least,” said a notary, “your grace will not be able to do away with, because a great personage keeps it, and what he loses in a year is beyond comparison more than what he makes from the cards. Against other gambling dens of lesser account your grace may show your power, for they are the ones that do the most harm and cover up the most outrages; for in the houses of gentlemen of rank and of lords the famous cardsharps do not dare use their tricks; and since the vice of gaming has become a common practice, it is better that it be played in great houses than in some tradesman’s, where they catch some poor wretch after midnight and skin him alive.”

“Well, notary,” said Sancho, “I know there’s a lot to be said about that.”

And at this a catchpole arrived holding a young man by the arm, and said:

“Lord governor, this youth was coming toward us, and as soon as he caught sight of the law, he turned his back and began to run like a deer, a sign that he must be some offender. I went after him, and if he hadn’t tripped and fallen, I would never have caught him.”

“Why were you running away, man?” asked Sancho.

To which the youth answered:

“Sir, to get out of answering the many questions the law asks.”

“What is your trade?”

“Weaver.”

“And what do you weave?”

“Lance heads, by your grace’s good leave.”

“A wag, are you, with me? Fancy yourself a jester? Very well! And where were you going just now?”

“Sir, to take the air.”

“And where does one take the air in this isle?”

“Where it blows.”

“Good: you answer very much to the point! A clever one you are, young man; but take it that I am the air, and that I’m blowing on your stern and sending you on your way to the jail. Seize him, ho there, and take him off, for I’ll see that he sleeps there tonight without any air!”

“By God,” said the youth, “your grace can no more make me sleep in jail than make me king!”

“And why shouldn’t I make you sleep in jail?” answered Sancho. “Don’t I have power to arrest you and let you go whenever and as often as I like?”

“However much power your grace has,” said the youth, “it won’t be enough to make me sleep in jail.”

“What do you mean, no?” replied Sancho. “Take him away at once to where he’ll see his mistake with his own eyes, however much the warden may want to use his money-minded generosity on him; for I’ll fine the warden two thousand ducats if he lets you take one step out of the jail.”

“All that is something to laugh at,” answered the youth. “The fact is that all the people alive today put together won’t make me sleep in jail.”

“Tell me, you devil,” said Sancho, “do you have some angel to get you out and take off the fetters I mean to order put on you?”

“Now, lord governor,” answered the youth with a very good grace, “let’s be reasonable and come to the point. Suppose your grace orders me taken to jail, and that there they put fetters and chains on me, and put me in a dungeon, and the warden is threatened with heavy penalties if he lets me out, and he does as he is told; for all that, if I don’t want to sleep, and stay awake all night without shutting an eye, will all your grace’s power be enough to put me to sleep against my will?”

“No, certainly not,” said the secretary, “and the man has made his point.”

“So,” said Sancho, “you’ll be keeping from sleep only because you choose to, and not to go against my will.”

“No, sir,” said the youth, “not even in thought.”

“Then go with God,” said Sancho; “go home to sleep, and God give you good sleep, for I don’t want to take it from you; but I advise you from now on not to play jokes on the law, for you’ll run into one that will crack the joke over your skull.”

The youth went off, and the governor went on with his round, and shortly afterward two catchpoles came holding a man and said:

“Lord governor, this one who looks like a man isn’t one, but a woman, and not an ugly one, who’s going about dressed as a man.”

They brought two or three lanterns up to her eyes, and by their light they made out the face of a woman, sixteen years old, it seemed, or a little more, her hair gathered in a little net of gold and green silk, as beautiful as a thousand pearls. They looked her over from top to bottom, and saw that she wore stockings of crimson silk with garters of white taffeta and fringes of gold and seed pearls; her breeches were green, of cloth of gold, and a loose jacket or doublet of the same, under which she wore a waistcoat of very fine cloth of gold and white, and her shoes were white and a man’s. She wore no sword at her waist, but a very rich dagger, and on her fingers many very fine rings. In short, the girl pleased everyone, and not one of all who saw her knew her, and the natives of the town said they could not think who she might be, and those who were in the secret of the jests to be played on Sancho were the most amazed of all, because this happening and discovery had not been arranged by them; and so they were in doubt, waiting to see how the matter would end.

Sancho was stunned by the girl’s beauty, and asked her who she was, where she was going, and what reason had moved her to dress in that attire. She, her eyes on the ground in the most modest shame, answered:

“I cannot, sir, say so publicly what it mattered so much to me to keep secret; one thing I want understood: that I am no thief nor criminal, but an unhappy damsel whom the force of jealousy has made break the decorum owed to modesty.”

Hearing this, the steward said to Sancho:

“Have the people moved away, lord governor, so that this lady may say what she likes with less embarrassment.”

The governor ordered it so; they all moved away except the steward, the table steward, and the secretary. Finding themselves alone, then, the damsel went on, saying:

“I, sirs, am the daughter of Pedro Pérez Mazorca, the wool contractor of this town, who often comes to my father’s house.”

“That doesn’t hold together, madam,” said the steward, “because I know Pedro Pérez very well and I know he has no child at all, neither son nor daughter; and what’s more, you say he is your father, and then you add that he often comes to your father’s house.”

“I had already noticed that,” said Sancho.

“Now, sirs, I’m all confused and don’t know what I’m saying,” answered the damsel, “but the truth is that my father is Diego de la Llana, whom all your graces must know.”

“That holds together better,” answered the steward, “for I know Diego de la Llana, and I know he is a rich hidalgo of standing, and that he has a son and a daughter, and that since he was widowed there has been no one in this whole town who can say he has seen his daughter’s face; for he keeps her so shut away that he does not give the sun a chance to see her; and for all that, report says she is extremely beautiful.”

“That is the truth,” answered the damsel, “and I am that daughter; whether report lies about my beauty or not, you will have found out by now, sirs, since you have seen me.”

And at this she began to weep tenderly; seeing which, the secretary went up to the table steward’s ear and said to him very softly:

“Beyond any doubt, something of importance must have happened to this poor damsel, since she is out of her house in such dress, and at such an hour, and being of such standing.”

“There is no doubting it,” answered the table steward; “and what’s more, her tears confirm the suspicion.”

Sancho consoled her with the best words he knew, and asked her to tell them without any fear what had happened to her; for they would all try to remedy it in good earnest and by every possible means.

“The case, sirs,” she answered, “is that my father has kept me shut up for ten years now, which is just as long as the earth has been eating my mother. Mass is said in our house in a rich oratory, and in all this time I have seen nothing but the sun in the sky by day, and the moon and stars by night, nor do I know what streets, squares, or churches are, nor even men, except my father and a brother of mine, and Pedro Pérez the contractor, whom, because he is always in and out of our house, I chose on a whim to name as my father, so as not to name my own. This shutting away and this denying me leave to go out of the house, even to church, has kept me very unhappy for many days and months; I longed to see the world, or at any rate the town I was born in, for it seemed to me this wish did not go against the good decorum that damsels of standing must keep for themselves. When I heard it said that bulls were being run and canes were being played and plays were being performed, I would ask my brother, who is a year younger than I am, to tell me what those things were and many others that I have not seen; he would explain them to me in the best ways he knew, but it all only fired my wish to see them the more. At last, to cut short the tale of my ruin, I say that I begged and asked my brother, and I wish I had never asked or begged such a thing…”

And she began to weep afresh. The steward said to her:

“Go on, your grace, madam, and finish telling us what has happened to you, for your words and your tears are keeping us all in suspense.”

“I have few words left to say,” answered the damsel, “though tears I have many left to weep, because ill-placed desires can bring no other returns than these.”

The damsel’s beauty had settled into the table steward’s soul, and he brought his lantern near again to see her once more; and it seemed to him that it was not tears she was weeping, but seed pearls or the dew of the meadows, and he even raised them higher and made them out to be oriental pearls, and he was wishing that her misfortune might not be as great as the signs of her weeping and her sighs gave one to understand. The governor was in despair at how long the girl was taking to spin out her story, and told her to stop keeping them in suspense any longer, for it was late and much of the town was still to be gone over. She, between broken sobs and half-formed sighs, said:

“My misfortune is nothing else, and my ill luck is no other, than that I begged my brother to dress me as a man in one of his suits and take me out one night to see the whole town, while our father was asleep; he, worn down by my pleading, gave in to my wish, and, putting this suit on me and dressing himself in one of mine, which fits him as if he were born to it, because he has no hair of a beard and looks like nothing but a very beautiful damsel, tonight, about an hour ago, more or less, we went out of the house; and, guided by our youthful and harebrained notion, we have been all round the town, and when we wanted to go back home, we saw a great crowd of people coming, and my brother said to me, ‘Sister, this must be the watch: quicken your feet and put wings on them, and come running after me, so they don’t recognize us, for it will go badly for us.’ And, saying this, he turned his back and began, I won’t say to run, but to fly; I, before I had gone six steps, fell down with the fright, and then the officer of the law came up who brought me before your graces, where, for being wicked and willful, I find myself shamed before so many people.”

“In fact, madam,” said Sancho, “nothing else untoward has happened to you, and it wasn’t jealousy, as you said at the beginning of your tale, that took you out of your house?”

“Nothing has happened to me, and it wasn’t jealousy that took me out, but only the wish to see the world, which went no further than seeing the streets of this town.”

And what finished confirming that the damsel was telling the truth was the arrival of the catchpoles with her brother under arrest, whom one of them had caught when he ran away from his sister. He had on nothing but a rich petticoat and a little mantle of blue damask with braid of fine gold, his head with no coif nor anything else to adorn it but his own hair, which was all rings of gold, so fair and curly was it. The governor, the steward, and the table steward drew him aside, and, without his sister hearing, asked him how he came to be in that dress, and he, with no less shame and embarrassment, told the same thing his sister had told, at which the enamored table steward was greatly pleased. But the governor said to them:

“Certainly, sirs, this has been a great piece of childishness, and to tell this foolishness and rashness there was no need of so many delays, nor so many tears and sighs; for by saying, ‘We are so-and-so and such-and-such, who slipped out of our parents’ house for a stroll with this trick, only out of curiosity, with no other purpose at all,’ the tale would have been over, and none of this whimpering and sniveling and on and on.”

“That is the truth,” answered the damsel, “but let your graces know that the confusion I have been in was so great that it did not let me keep within the bounds I ought.”

“Nothing has been lost,” answered Sancho. “Let’s go, and we’ll leave your graces at your father’s house; perhaps he won’t have missed you. And from now on, don’t act so childish, or so eager to see the world, for the honest maiden, a broken leg, and at home; and woman and hen, by gadding about, are soon lost; and she who longs to see longs to be seen as well. I say no more.”

The young man thanked the governor for the favor he meant to do them in taking them back to their house, and so they set off toward it, for it was not very far from there. They arrived, then, and, the brother tossing a pebble at a grating, a maid who was waiting for them came down at once and opened the door for them, and they went in, leaving everyone amazed, as much at their elegance and beauty as at the wish they had to see the world, by night and without leaving the town; but they put it all down to their youth.

The table steward was left with his heart pierced through, and resolved that the very next day he would ask her father for her hand, taking it for certain that he would not refuse her to him, since he was the duke’s servant; and even Sancho had wishes and inklings of marrying the young man to Sanchica, his daughter, and he resolved to bring the matter up in due course, giving himself to understand that no husband could be denied to a governor’s daughter.

With this the round of that night came to an end, and two days later the government, with which all his plans were cut off at the root and wiped out, as will be seen further on.