lady Dulcinea; for there must have been kings in the world who kept mistresses. As to beauty, I have nothing to do with it; and if the truth is to be told, I like them both; though I have never seen the lady Dulcinea.”
“How! never seen her, blasphemous traitor!” exclaimed Don Quixote; “hast thou not just now brought me a message from her?”
“I mean,” said Sancho, “that I did not see her so much at my leisure that I could take particular notice of her beauty, or of her charms piecemeal; but taken in the lump I like her.”
“Now I forgive thee,” said Don Quixote; “and do thou forgive me the injury I have done thee; for our first impulses are not in our control.”
“That I see,” replied Sancho, “and with me the wish to speak is always the first impulse, and I cannot help saying, once at any rate, what I have on the tip of my tongue.”
“For all that, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “take heed of what thou sayest, for the pitcher goes so often to the well —I need say no more to thee.”
“Well, well,” said Sancho, “God is in heaven, and sees all tricks, and will judge who does most harm, I in not speaking right, or your worship in not doing it.”
“That is enough,” said Dorothea; “run, Sancho, and kiss your lord’s hand and beg his pardon, and henceforward be more circumspect with your praise and abuse; and say nothing in disparagement of that lady Toboso, of whom I know nothing save that I am her servant; and put your trust in God, for you will not fail to obtain some dignity so as to live like a prince.”
Sancho advanced hanging his head and begged his master’s hand, which Don Quixote with dignity presented to him, giving him his blessing as soon as he had kissed it; he then bade him go on ahead a little, as he had