“I know a good remedy for that,” said he of the Grove; “I have here two linen bags of the same size; you shall take one, and I the other, and we will fight at bag blows with equal arms.”
“If that’s the way, so be it with all my heart,” said Sancho, “for that sort of battle will serve to knock the dust out of us instead of hurting us.”
“That will not do,” said the other, “for we must put into the bags, to keep the wind from blowing them away, half a dozen nice smooth pebbles, all of the same weight; and in this way we shall be able to baste one another without doing ourselves any harm or mischief.”
“Body of my father!” said Sancho, “see what marten and sable, and pads of carded cotton he is putting into the bags, that our heads may not be broken and our bones beaten to jelly! But even if they are filled with toss silk, I can tell you, señor, I am not going to fight; let our masters fight, that’s their lookout, and let us drink and live; for time will take care to ease us of our lives, without our going to look for fillips so that they may be finished off before their proper time comes and they drop from ripeness.”
“Still,” returned he of the Grove, “we must fight, if it be only for half an hour.”
“By no means,” said Sancho; “I am not going to be so discourteous or so ungrateful as to have any quarrel, be it ever so small, with one I have eaten and drunk with; besides, who the devil could bring himself to fight in cold blood, without anger or provocation?”