“I swear by God Omnipotent,” exclaimed Don Quixote at this, “your highness has hit the point; and that some vile illusion must have come before this sinner of a Sancho, that made him see what it would have been impossible to see by any other means than enchantments; for I know well enough, from the poor fellow’s goodness and harmlessness, that he is incapable of bearing false witness against anybody.”
“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.”
They were all eager to know what the affair of the blanket was, and the landlord gave them a minute account of Sancho’s flights, at which they laughed not a little, and at which Sancho would have been no less out of countenance had not his master once more assured him it was all enchantment. For all that his simplicity never reached so high a pitch that he could persuade himself it was not the plain and simple truth, without any deception whatever about it, that he had been blanketed by beings of flesh and blood, and not by visionary and imaginary phantoms, as his master believed and protested.