CHAPTER LI.

WHICH DEALS WITH WHAT THE GOATHERD TOLD THOSE WHO WERE CARRYING OFF DON
QUIXOTE


Three leagues from this valley there is a village which, though small, is
one of the richest in all this neighbourhood, and in it there lived a
farmer, a very worthy man, and so much respected that, although to be so
is the natural consequence of being rich, he was even more respected for
his virtue than for the wealth he had acquired. But what made him still
more fortunate, as he said himself, was having a daughter of such
exceeding beauty, rare intelligence, gracefulness, and virtue, that
everyone who knew her and beheld her marvelled at the extraordinary gifts
with which heaven and nature had endowed her. As a child she was
beautiful, she continued to grow in beauty, and at the age of sixteen she
was most lovely. The fame of her beauty began to spread abroad through
all the villages around--but why do I say the villages around, merely,
when it spread to distant cities, and even made its way into the halls of
royalty and reached the ears of people of every class, who came from all
sides to see her as if to see something rare and curious, or some
wonder-working image?

Her father watched over her and she watched over herself; for there are
no locks, or guards, or bolts that can protect a young girl better than
her own modesty. The wealth of the father and the beauty of the daughter
led many neighbours as well as strangers to seek her for a wife; but he,
as one might well be who had the disposal of so rich a jewel, was
perplexed and unable to make up his mind to which of her countless
suitors he should entrust her. I was one among the many who felt a desire
so natural, and, as her father knew who I was, and I was of the same
town, of pure blood, in the bloom of life, and very rich in possessions,
I had great hopes of success. There was another of the same place and
qualifications who also sought her, and this made her father's choice
hang in the balance, for he felt that on either of us his daughter would
be well bestowed; so to escape from this state of perplexity he resolved
to refer the matter to Leandra (for that is the name of the rich damsel
who has reduced me to misery), reflecting that as we were both equal it
would be best to leave it to his dear daughter to choose according to her
inclination--a course that is worthy of imitation by all fathers who wish
to settle their children in life. I do not mean that they ought to leave
them to make a choice of what is contemptible and bad, but that they
should place before them what is good and then allow them to make a good
choice as they please. I do not know which Leandra chose; I only know her
father put us both off with the tender age of his daughter and vague
words that neither bound him nor dismissed us. My rival is called Anselmo
and I myself Eugenio--that you may know the names of the personages that
figure in this tragedy, the end of which is still in suspense, though it
is plain to see it must be disastrous.

About this time there arrived in our town one Vicente de la Roca, the son
of a poor peasant of the same town, the said Vicente having returned from
service as a soldier in Italy and divers other parts. A captain who
chanced to pass that way with his company had carried him off from our
village when he was a boy of about twelve years, and now twelve years
later the young man came back in a soldier's uniform, arrayed in a
thousand colours, and all over glass trinkets and fine steel chains.
To-day he would appear in one gay dress, to-morrow in another; but all
flimsy and gaudy, of little substance and less worth. The peasant folk,
who are naturally malicious, and when they have nothing to do can be
malice itself, remarked all this, and took note of his finery and
jewellery, piece by piece, and discovered that he had three suits of
different colours, with garters and stockings to match; but he made so
many arrangements and combinations out of them, that if they had not
counted them, anyone would have sworn that he had made a display of more
than ten suits of clothes and twenty plumes. Do not look upon all this
that I am telling you about the clothes as uncalled for or spun out, for
they have a great deal to do with the story. He used to seat himself on a
bench under the great poplar in our plaza, and there he would keep us all
hanging open-mouthed on the stories he told us of his exploits. There was
no country on the face of the globe he had not seen, nor battle he had
not been engaged in; he had killed more Moors than there are in Morocco
and Tunis, and fought more single combats, according to his own account,
than Garcilaso, Diego Garcia de Paredes and a thousand others he named,
and out of all he had come victorious without losing a drop of blood. On
the other hand he showed marks of wounds, which, though they could not be
made out, he said were gunshot wounds received in divers encounters and
actions. Lastly, with monstrous impudence he used to say "you" to his
equals and even those who knew what he was, and declare that his arm was
his father and his deeds his pedigree, and that being a soldier he was as
good as the king himself. And to add to these swaggering ways he was a
trifle of a musician, and played the guitar with such a flourish that
some said he made it speak; nor did his accomplishments end here, for he
was something of a poet too, and on every trifle that happened in the
town he made a ballad a league long.

This soldier, then, that I have described, this Vicente de la Roca, this
bravo, gallant, musician, poet, was often seen and watched by Leandra
from a window of her house which looked out on the plaza. The glitter of
his showy attire took her fancy, his ballads bewitched her (for he gave
away twenty copies of every one he made), the tales of his exploits which
he told about himself came to her ears; and in short, as the devil no
doubt had arranged it, she fell in love with him before the presumption
of making love to her had suggested itself to him; and as in love-affairs
none are more easily brought to an issue than those which have the
inclination of the lady for an ally, Leandra and Vicente came to an
understanding without any difficulty; and before any of her numerous
suitors had any suspicion of her design, she had already carried it into
effect, having left the house of her dearly beloved father (for mother
she had none), and disappeared from the village with the soldier, who
came more triumphantly out of this enterprise than out of any of the
large number he laid claim to. All the village and all who heard of it
were amazed at the affair; I was aghast, Anselmo thunderstruck, her
father full of grief, her relations indignant, the authorities all in a
ferment, the officers of the Brotherhood in arms. They scoured the roads,
they searched the woods and all quarters, and at the end of three days
they found the flighty Leandra in a mountain cave, stript to her shift,
and robbed of all the money and precious jewels she had carried away from
home with her.

They brought her back to her unhappy father, and questioned her as to her
misfortune, and she confessed without pressure that Vicente de la Roca
had deceived her, and under promise of marrying her had induced her to
leave her father's house, as he meant to take her to the richest and most
delightful city in the whole world, which was Naples; and that she,
ill-advised and deluded, had believed him, and robbed her father, and
handed over all to him the night she disappeared; and that he had carried
her away to a rugged mountain and shut her up in the eave where they had
found her. She said, moreover, that the soldier, without robbing her of
her honour, had taken from her everything she had, and made off, leaving
her in the cave, a thing that still further surprised everybody. It was
not easy for us to credit the young man's continence, but she asserted it
with such earnestness that it helped to console her distressed father,
who thought nothing of what had been taken since the jewel that once lost
can never be recovered had been left to his daughter. The same day that
Leandra made her appearance her father removed her from our sight and
took her away to shut her up in a convent in a town near this, in the
hope that time may wear away some of the disgrace she has incurred.
Leandra's youth furnished an excuse for her fault, at least with those to
whom it was of no consequence whether she was good or bad; but those who
knew her shrewdness and intelligence did not attribute her misdemeanour
to ignorance but to wantonness and the natural disposition of women,
which is for the most part flighty and ill-regulated.

Leandra withdrawn from sight, Anselmo's eyes grew blind, or at any rate
found nothing to look at that gave them any pleasure, and mine were in
darkness without a ray of light to direct them to anything enjoyable
while Leandra was away. Our melancholy grew greater, our patience grew
less; we cursed the soldier's finery and railed at the carelessness of
Leandra's father. At last Anselmo and I agreed to leave the village and
come to this valley; and, he feeding a great flock of sheep of his own,
and I a large herd of goats of mine, we pass our life among the trees,
giving vent to our sorrows, together singing the fair Leandra's praises,
or upbraiding her, or else sighing alone, and to heaven pouring forth our
complaints in solitude. Following our example, many more of Leandra's
lovers have come to these rude mountains and adopted our mode of life,
and they are so numerous that one would fancy the place had been turned
into the pastoral Arcadia, so full is it of shepherds and sheep-folds;
nor is there a spot in it where the name of the fair Leandra is not
heard. Here one curses her and calls her capricious, fickle, and
immodest, there another condemns her as frail and frivolous; this pardons
and absolves her, that spurns and reviles her; one extols her beauty,
another assails her character, and in short all abuse her, and all adore
her, and to such a pitch has this general infatuation gone that there are
some who complain of her scorn without ever having exchanged a word with
her, and even some that bewail and mourn the raging fever of jealousy,
for which she never gave anyone cause, for, as I have already said, her
misconduct was known before her passion. There is no nook among the
rocks, no brookside, no shade beneath the trees that is not haunted by
some shepherd telling his woes to the breezes; wherever there is an echo
it repeats the name of Leandra; the mountains ring with "Leandra,"
"Leandra" murmur the brooks, and Leandra keeps us all bewildered and
bewitched, hoping without hope and fearing without knowing what we fear.
Of all this silly set the one that shows the least and also the most
sense is my rival Anselmo, for having so many other things to complain
of, he only complains of separation, and to the accompaniment of a
rebeck, which he plays admirably, he sings his complaints in verses that
show his ingenuity. I follow another, easier, and to my mind wiser
course, and that is to rail at the frivolity of women, at their
inconstancy, their double dealing, their broken promises, their unkept
pledges, and in short the want of reflection they show in fixing their
affections and inclinations. This, sirs, was the reason of words and
expressions I made use of to this goat when I came up just now; for as
she is a female I have a contempt for her, though she is the best in all
my fold. This is the story I promised to tell you, and if I have been
tedious in telling it, I will not be slow to serve you; my hut is close
by, and I have fresh milk and dainty cheese there, as well as a variety
of toothsome fruit, no less pleasing to the eye than to the palate.