h lash I give myself?"--"Were your
payment, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "to be answerable to the greatness
and quality of this cure, the wealth of Venice and the mines of Potosi
would be small payment for thee. But see what you have of mine, and
set the price on each stripe."--"The lashes," quoth Sancho, "are three
thousand three hundred and odd, of which I have given myself five; the
rest are to come. Let these five go for the odd ones, and let us come
to the three thousand three hundred, which at a quartillo apiece--and
I will not take less if all the world bid me--they make three thousand
three hundred quartillos, of which three thousand make fifteen hundred
half-reals, which amounts to seven hundred and fifty reals; and the
three hundred remaining make an hundred and fifty half-reals, and
three-score and fifteen reals; put that with the seven hundred and
fifty, and it comes altogether to eight hundred and twenty-five reals.
This I will deduct from what I hold of yours, and will return home
rich and well pleased, though well whipped. But one must not think to
catch trout--I say no more."--"O blessed Sancho! O amiable Sancho!"
cried Don Quixote. "How shall Dulcinea and I be bound to serve thee
all the days that Heaven shall give us of life! If she recover from
her lost state (and it is not possible that she fail to do so), her
misfortune will turn to her felicity, and my defeat to the happiest
triumph. And hark ye, Sancho! when wilt thou enter upon thy
discipline? For if thou hastenest it, I will add further a hundred
reals more."--"When?" answered Sancho; "this very night without fail.
Do you but order it that we lie in the fields under the open sky, and
I will open my flesh."

Night arrived, awaited by Don Quixote with the greatest anxiety; and
he fancied Phoebus had broken his chariot wheels, which made the day
of so unusual a length,--as is always the case with lovers, who never
make allowance for the reckoning of their desires. At last they
entered amongst some pleasant trees that stood a little out of the
road, where, leaving empty the saddle and pannel of Rozinante and
Dapple, they stretched themselves upon the green grass, and supped
from Sancho's wallet.

He, having made himself a heavy and flexible whip of Dapple's
headstall and reins, retired about twenty paces from his master,
amidst some beeches. Don Quixote, observing him go with readiness and
resolution, said, "Have a care, friend; do not hack thyself