eper; "I tell you, rascal, it is
my wine skins that are slashed, and my wine that runs about the floor
here, and I hope to see the soul of him that spilt it swimming in hell
for his pains."--"Well, well," said Sancho, "do not trouble me; I only
tell you, that I cannot find the giant's head, and my earldom is gone
after it, and so I am undone, like salt in water." And truly Sancho's
waking dream was worse than his master's when asleep. The innkeeper
was almost mad to see the foolish squire harp so on the same string
with his frantic master, and swore they should not come off now as
before; that their chivalry should be no satisfaction for his wine,
but that they should pay him sauce for the damage, and for the very
leathern patches which the wounded wine skins would want.

Don Quixote, in the meanwhile, believing he had finished his
adventure, and mistaking the curate, that held him by the arms, for
the Princess Micomicona, fell on his knees before him, and with a
respect due to a royal presence, "Now may your highness," said he,
"great and illustrious princess, live secure, free from any further
apprehensions from your conquered enemy; and now I am acquitted of my
engagement, since, by the assistance of Heaven and the influence of
her favor by whom I live and conquer, your adventure is so happily
achieved."--"Did not I tell you so, gentlefolks?" said Sancho; "who is
drunk or mad now? See if my master has not already put the giant in
pickle? Here are the bulls, and I am an earl." The whole company,
except the innkeeper, were like to split at the extravagances of
master and man. At last, the barber, Cardenio, and the curate having
with much ado got Don Quixote to bed, he presently fell asleep, being
heartily tired; and then they left him to comfort Sancho Panza for the
loss of the giant's head; but it was no easy matter to appease the
innkeeper, who was at his wit's end for the unexpected and sudden fate
of his wine skins.

DON QUIXOTE MEETS THE LIONS

_By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

The history relates, that Sancho was chaffering with the shepherds for
some curds, when Don Quixote called to him to bring his helmet; and
finding that his master was in haste, he did not know what to do with
them, nor what to bring them in; yet loth to lose his purchase (for he
had already paid for them), he bethought himself at last of clapping
them into the helmet, where having them s