The curate rode first on the mule, and with him rode Don Quixote and the princess. The others—Cardenio, the barber, and Sancho Panza—followed on foot. And as they rode, Don Quixote said to the damsel, “Madam, let me entreat your highness to lead the way that most pleaseth you.”

Before she could answer, the curate said, “Towards what kingdoms would you travel? Are you for your native land of Micomicon?”

She, who knew very well what to answer, being no babe, replied, “Yes, sir, my way lies towards that kingdom.”

“If it be so,” said the curate, “you must pass through the village where I dwell, and from thence your ladyship must take the road to Carthagena, where you may embark. And, if you have a prosperous journey, you may come within the space of nine years to the Lake Meona, I mean Meolidas, which stands on this side of your highness’s kingdom some hundred days’ journey or more.”

“You are mistaken, good sir,” said she, “for it is not yet fully two years since I left there, and though I never had fair weather, I have arrived in time to see what I so longed for, the presence of the renowned Don Quixote of the Mancha, whose glory was known to me as soon as my foot touched the shores of Spain.”

“No more,” cried Don Quixote. “I cannot abide to hear myself praised, for I am a sworn enemy to flattery. And though I know what you speak is but truth, yet it offends mine ears. And I can tell you this, at least, that whether I have valour or not, I will use it in your service, even to the loss of my life. Tell me, therefore, without delay, what are your troubles and on whom am I to take revenge.”

To this Dorothea replied, “Willingly will I do what you ask, so you will give me your attention.”

At this Cardenio and the barber drew near to hear the witty Dorothea tell her tale, and Sancho, who was as much deceived as his master, was the most eager of all to listen. She, after settling herself in her saddle, began with a lively air to speak as follows, “In the first place, I would have you know, gentlemen, that my name is–” Here she stopped a moment, for she had forgotten what name the curate had given her.

He, seeing her trouble, said quickly, “It is no wonder, great lady, that you hesitate to tell your misfortunes. Great sufferers often lose their memory, so that they even forget their own names, as seems to have happened to your ladyship, who has forgotten that she is called the Princess Micomicona, heiress of the great Kingdom of Micomicon.”

“True,” said the damsel, “but let me proceed. The king, my father, was called Tinacrio the Sage, and he was learned in the magic art. By this he discovered that my mother, the Queen Xaramilla, would die before him, and that I should soon afterwards be left an orphan. This did not trouble him so much as the knowledge that a certain giant, called Pandafilando of the Sour Face, lord of a great island near our border, when he should hear that I was an orphan would pass over with a mighty force into my kingdom and take it from me. My father warned me that when this came to pass I should not stay to defend myself and so cause the slaughter of my people, but should at once set out for Spain, where I should meet with a knight whose fame would then extend through all that kingdom. His name, he said, should be Don Quixote, and he would be tall of stature, have a withered face, and on his right side, a little under his left shoulder, he should have a tawny spot with certain hairs like bristles.”

On hearing this, Don Quixote said, “Hold my horse, son Sancho, and help me to strip, for I would know if I am the knight of whom the sage king spoke.”

“There is no need,” said Sancho, “for I know that your worship has such a mark near your backbone.”

“It is enough,” said Dorothea, “for among friends we must not be too particular, and whether it is on your shoulder or your backbone is of no importance. And, indeed, no sooner did I land in Osuna than I heard of Don Quixote’s fame, and felt sure that he was the man.”

“But how did you land in Osuna, madam,” asked Don Quixote, “seeing that it is not a sea town?”

“Sir,” said the curate, “the princess would say that she landed at Malaga, and that Osuna was the first place wherein she heard tidings of your worship.”

“That is so,” said Dorothea, “and now nothing remains but to guide you to Pandafilando of the Sour Face that I may see you slay him, and once again I may enter into my kingdom. For all must succeed as the wise Tinacrio, my father, has foretold, and if the knight of the prophecy, when he has killed the giant, so desires, then it will be my lot to become his wife, and he will at once possess both me and my kingdom.”

“What thinkest thou of this, friend Sancho? Did I not tell thee this would come about? Here we have a kingdom to command and a queen to marry.”

When Sancho heard all this he jumped for joy, and running to Dorothea stopped her mule, and asking her very humbly to give him her hand to kiss, he kneeled down as a sign that he accepted her as his queen and lady. All around could scarcely hide their laughter at the knight’s madness and the squire’s simplicity, and when Dorothea promised Sancho to make him a great lord, and Sancho gave her thanks, it roused their mirth anew.

“Madam,” continued Don Quixote, who appeared to be full of thought, “I repeat all I have said and make my vow anew, and when I have cut off the head of Pandafilando I will put you in peaceable possession of your kingdom, but since my memory and will are captive to another, it is not possible for me to marry.”

The End, Part One