“Thou shalt die,” said Rhadamanthus in a loud voice; “relent, thou tiger; humble thyself, proud Nimrod; suffer and be silent, for no impossibilities are asked of thee; it is not for thee to inquire into the difficulties in this matter; smacked thou must be, pricked thou shalt see thyself, and with pinches thou must be made to howl. Ho, I say, officials, obey my orders; or by the word of an honest man, ye shall see what ye were born for.”
At this some six duennas, advancing across the court, made their appearance in procession, one after the other, four of them with spectacles, and all with their right hands uplifted, showing four fingers of wrist to make their hands look longer, as is the fashion nowadays. No sooner had Sancho caught sight of them than, bellowing like a bull, he exclaimed, “I might let myself be handled by all the world; but allow duennas to touch me—not a bit of it! Scratch my face, as my master was served in this very castle; run me through the body with burnished daggers; pinch my arms with red-hot pincers; I’ll bear all in patience to serve these gentlefolk; but I won’t let duennas touch me, though the devil should carry me off!”
Here Don Quixote, too, broke silence, saying to Sancho, “Have patience, my son, and gratify these noble persons, and give all thanks to heaven that it has infused such virtue into thy person, that by its sufferings thou canst disenchant the enchanted and restore to life the dead.”
The duennas were now close to Sancho, and he, having become more tractable and reasonable, settling himself well in his chair presented his face and beard to the first, who delivered him a smack very stoutly laid on, and then made him a low curtsey.
“Less politeness and less paint, señora duenna,” said Sancho; “by God your hands smell of vinegar-wash.”
In fine, all the duennas smacked him and several others of the household pinched him; but what he could not stand was being pricked by the pins;