Behold how Heaven, moved by my tears and
prayers, has ordained that Rosinante cannot go,' and then
warned him not to set Providence at defiance. Still Sancho
was much too frightened by the infernal clatter to relax his
hold of the knight's saddle. For some time he strove to
beguile his own fears with a very long story about the
goatherd Lope Ruiz, who was in love with the shepherdess
Torralva - 'a jolly, strapping wench, a little scornful, and
somewhat masculine.' Now, whether owing to the cold of the
morning, which was at hand, or whether to some lenitive diet
on which he had supped, it so befell that Sancho . . . what
nobody could do for him. The truth is, the honest fellow was
overcome by panic, and under no circumstances would, or did,
he for one instant leave his master's side. Nay, when the
knight spurred his steed and found it could not move, Sancho
reminded him that the attempt was useless, since Rosinante
was restrained by enchantment. This the knight readily
admitted, but stoutly protested that he himself was anything
but enchanted by the close proximity of his squire.
We all remember the grave admonitions of Don Quixote, and the
ingenious endeavours of Sancho to lay the blame upon the
knight. But the final words of the Don contain a moral
apposite to so many other important situations, that they
must not be omitted here. 'Apostare, replico Sancho, que
pensa vuestra merced que yo he hecho de mi persona alguna
cosa que no deba.' 'I will lay a wager,' replied Sancho,
'that your worship thinks that I have &c.' The brief, but
memorable, answer was: 'Peor es meneallo, amigo Sancho,'
which, as no translation could do justice to it, must be left
as it stands. QUIETA NON MOVERE.
We were nearly meeting with an adventure here. While I was
busy making a careful drawing of the BATANES, Cayley's pony
was as much alarmed by the rushing waters as had been Sancho
Panza. In his endeavours to picket the animal, my friend
dropped a pistol which I had lent him to practise with,
although he carried a revolver of his own. Not till he had
tied up the pony at some little distance did he discover the
loss. In vain he searched the spot where he knew the pistol
must have escaped from his FAJA. Near it, three rough-
looking knaves in shaggy goatskin garments, with guns over
their shoulders, were watching the progress of my sketch. On
his return Cayley asked two of these (the third moved away as
he came up) whether they had seen the pistol. They declared
they had not; upon which he said he must search them. He was
not a man to be trifled with, and although they refused at
first, they presently submitted. He then overtook the third,
and at once accused him of the theft. The man swore he knew
nothing of the lost weapon, and brought his gun to the
charge.
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