“I’ll stop less than halfway, please God,” said Sancho; “and so I say this labourer, coming to the house of the gentleman I spoke of that invited him⁠—rest his soul, he is now dead; and more by token he died the death of an angel, so they say; for I was not there, for just at that time I had gone to reap at Tembleque⁠—”

“As you live, my son,” said the churchman, “make haste back from Tembleque, and finish your story without burying the gentleman, unless you want to make more funerals.” 699

“Well then, it so happened,” said Sancho, “that as the pair of them were going to sit down to table⁠—and I think I can see them now plainer than ever⁠—”

Great was the enjoyment the duke and duchess derived from the irritation the worthy churchman showed at the long-winded, halting way Sancho had of telling his story, while Don Quixote was chafing with rage and vexation.