“True, no doubt,” said Don Fernando, “for which reason, Señor Don Quixote, you ought to forgive him and restore him to the bosom of your favour, sicut erat in principio , before illusions of this sort had taken away his senses.”

Don Quixote said he was ready to pardon him, and the curate went for Sancho, who came in very humbly, and falling on his knees begged for the hand of his master, who having presented it to him and allowed him to kiss it, gave him his blessing and said, “Now, Sancho my son, thou wilt be convinced of the truth of what I have many a time told thee, that everything in this castle is done by means of enchantment.”

“So it is, I believe,” said Sancho, “except the affair of the blanket, which came to pass in reality by ordinary means.”

“Believe it not,” said Don Quixote, “for had it been so, I would have avenged thee that instant, or even now; but neither then nor now could I, nor have I seen anyone upon whom to avenge thy wrong.”