So disgusted was Sancho with what he heard that he cried out in a great rage, “Surely, Sir Don Quixote, your worship is not in your right senses. Is it possible your worship can refuse to marry a princess like this? A poor chance have I of getting a countship if your worship goes on like this, searching for mushrooms at the bottom of the sea. Is my Lady Dulcinea more beautiful? She cannot hold a candle to her. Marry her! Marry at once, and when you are king make me a governor.”

Don Quixote, who heard such evil things spoken of his Lady Dulcinea, could not bear them any longer, and therefore, lifting up his lance, without speaking a word to Sancho, gave him two blows that brought him to the earth, and if Dorothea had not called to the knight to spare him, without doubt he would have taken his squire’s life.

“Think you, miserable villain,” cried Don Quixote, “that it is to be all sinning on thy side and pardoning on mine? Say, scoffer with the viper’s tongue, who dost thou think hath gained this kingdom and cut off the head of this giant and made thee marquis—for all this I take to be a thing as good as completed—unless it be the worth and valour of Dulcinea using my arm as her instrument? She fights in my person, and I live and breathe in her. From her I hold my life and being. O villain, how ungrateful art thou that seest thyself raised from the dust of the earth to be a nobleman, yet speakest evil of her who gives thee such honours!”

Sancho was not too much hurt to hear what his master said. He jumped up nimbly and ran behind Dorothea’s palfrey and from there said to his master, “Tell me, your worship, if you are not going to marry this great princess, how this kingdom will become yours and how you can do me any favours. Pray marry this queen now we have her here. I say nothing against Lady Dulcinea’s beauty, for I have never seen her.”

“How, thou wicked traitor, thou hast not seen her!” cried Don Quixote. “Didst thou not but now bring me a message from Her?”

“I mean,” replied Sancho, “not seen her for long enough to judge of her beauty, though, from what I did see, she appeared very lovely.”

“Ah!” said Don Quixote, “then I do excuse thee, but have a care what thou sayest, for remember, the pitcher may go once too often to the well.”

“No more of this,” said Dorothea. “Run Sancho, kiss your master’s hand, and ask his pardon. Henceforth speak no evil of the Lady Dulcinea and trust that fortune may find you an estate where you may live like a prince.”

Sancho went up hanging his head and asked his lord’s hand, which he gave him with a grave air, and after he had kissed it the knight gave him his blessing, and no more was said about it.

While this was passing, they saw coming along the road on which they were a man riding upon an ass, and when he drew near he seemed to be a gipsy. But Sancho Panza, whenever he met with any asses, followed them with his eyes and his heart, and he had hardly caught sight of the man when he knew him to be an escaped robber, Gines of Passamonte, and the ass to be none other than his beloved Dapple. Sancho called out in a loud voice, “Ah! Thief Gines, give up my jewel, let go my life, give up mine ass, give up the comfort of my home. Fly, scoundrel! Begone, thief! Give back what is none of thine.”

He need not have used so many words, for Gines leaped off at the first and raced away from them all as fast as his legs could carry him. Sancho then ran up to Dapple and embracing him cried, “How hast thou been cared for, my darling and treasure, Dapple of mine eyes, my sweet companion?” With this he stroked and kissed him as if he had been a human being. But the ass held his peace, and allowed Sancho to kiss and cherish him without answering a word.

The End, Part One