“So, as I was saying,” continued Sancho, “as the pair of them were going to sit down to table, as I said, the labourer insisted upon the gentleman’s taking the head of the table, and the gentleman insisted upon the labourer’s taking it, as his orders should be obeyed in his house; but the labourer, who plumed himself on his politeness and good breeding, would not on any account, until the gentleman, out of patience, putting his hands on his shoulders, compelled him by force to sit down, saying, ‘Sit down, you stupid lout, for wherever I sit will be the head to you;’ and that’s the story, and, troth, I think it hasn’t been brought in amiss here.”

Don Quixote turned all colours, which, on his sunburnt face, mottled it till it looked like jasper. The duke and duchess suppressed their laughter so as not altogether to mortify Don Quixote, for they saw through Sancho’s impertinence; and to change the conversation, and keep Sancho from uttering more absurdities, the duchess asked Don Quixote what news he had of the lady Dulcinea, and if he had sent her any presents of giants or miscreants lately, for he could not but have vanquished a good many.