HKB
neither read nor write--nor, for that matter, with thoughts of any other kind on any other subject, for while Don Quixote had lost his wits, Sancho had never had any.
To this poor fellow Don Quixote would talk of his adventures by the hour, trying to persuade Sancho that he was missing much romance by remaining a farm-hand all his life and that he ought to become the squire of some noble knight--for instance, himself. And so, after much persuasion and many promises, Sancho Panza decided to adopt his noble neighbor as his master. He was told that he must provide himself with all the necessaries for such an important and lofty position; and he assured his master that he would bring along his very best donkey. The mention of this ignoble animal somewhat took the knight aback. He ransacked his memory for any instance in which any other mount than a horse had been used, but he could recall none. However, he could not very well have an attendant on foot, so he decided to take him along, mounted on his donkey. Of course, there was no doubt in his mind that an opportunity would present itself ere long to appropriate the horse of some rebellious knight.
One night the two sallied forth from the village, unseen. Sancho Panza sat on his donkey, a picture of grave joviality, already seeing himself the governor of some conquered island. Don Quixote was taking the same road he took on his first campaign, the road that led over the Campo de Montiel.
CHAPTERS VIII-IX
OF THE GOOD FORTUNE WHICH THE VALIANT DON QUIXOTE HAD IN THE TERRIBLE AND UNDREAMT-OF ADVENTURE OF THE WINDMILLS, WITH OTHER OCCURRENCES WORTHY TO BE FITLY RECORDED, INCLUDING THE TERRIBLE BATTLE BETWEEN THE GALLANT BISCAYAN AND THE VALIANT MANCHEGAN
When they had traveled a few miles they suddenly saw thirty or forty windmills scattered over a plain. Don Quixote pulled in his horse, his eyes staring out of their sockets.
"Look, friend Sancho Panza!" he exclaimed. "Thirty or more monstrous giants present themselves! I mean to engage them all in battle and slay them; for this is righteous warfare. It is serving God to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth!"
"What giants?" asked Sancho curiously.
"Those with the long arms," replied Don Quixote.
"But, your worship," said Sancho, "those are not giants but windmills, and what seem to be their arms are the sails that make the millstones go."
Hearing his squire make such a foolish remark, Don Quixote could not quite make up his mind whether it was through ignorance, inexperience in the pursuit of adventure, or cowardice, that he spoke like that. So he suggested Sancho would better stay away and pray while he, Don Quixote, fought the giants single-handed. The honor of conquering in such an unequal combat would be so much greater for him, he thought, if he won victory all by himself.
Don Quixote made ready for the attack by commending himself to his Lady Dulcinea, and then he gave the spur to Rocinante in spite of the pleas and outcries of Sancho Panza. Just at this moment a breeze began to blow and the sails of the windmills commenced to move. The knight charged at his hack's fullest gallop, drove his spear with such force into one of the sails that the spear was shattered to pieces while the poor knight fell over the pommel of his saddle, head over heels in the air, and Rocinante fell stunned to the ground. There they rolled together on the plain, in a battered and bruised condition.
Sancho hurried to his master's side as fast as his donkey could carry him. He was worried beyond words, for he expected to find Don Quixote well nigh dead, and he was not bent on giving up all hopes of governing an island, at so early a stage. The misguided knight was unable to move. Nevertheless Sancho Panza could not resist the impulse to reprimand his master. "Did I not tell your worship so!" he admonished. But Don Quixote would hear nothing, answering in a sportsmanlike fashion: