iddle of his delivery he raised his hand and
gave him a sturdy blow on the neck, and then, with his own sword, a smart
slap on the shoulder, all the while muttering between his teeth as if he
was saying his prayers. Having done this, he directed one of the ladies
to gird on his sword, which she did with great self-possession and
gravity, and not a little was required to prevent a burst of laughter at
each stage of the ceremony; but what they had already seen of the novice
knight's prowess kept their laughter within bounds. On girding him with
the sword the worthy lady said to him, "May God make your worship a very
fortunate knight, and grant you success in battle." Don Quixote asked her
name in order that he might from that time forward know to whom he was
beholden for the favour he had received, as he meant to confer upon her
some portion of the honour he acquired by the might of his arm. She
answered with great humility that she was called La Tolosa, and that she
was the daughter of a cobbler of Toledo who lived in the stalls of
Sanchobienaya, and that wherever she might be she would serve and esteem
him as her lord. Don Quixote said in reply that she would do him a favour
if thenceforward she assumed the "Don" and called herself Dona Tolosa.
She promised she would, and then the other buckled on his spur, and with
her followed almost the same conversation as with the lady of the sword.
He asked her name, and she said it was La Molinera, and that she was the
daughter of a respectable miller of Antequera; and of her likewise Don
Quixote requested that she would adopt the "Don" and call herself Dona
Molinera, making offers to her further services and favours.

Having thus, with hot haste and speed, brought to a conclusion these
never-till-now-seen ceremonies, Don Quixote was on thorns until he saw
himself on horseback sallying forth in quest of adventures; and saddling
Rocinante at once he mounted, and embracing his host, as he returned
thanks for his kindness in knighting him, he addressed him in language so
extraordinary that it is impossible to convey an idea of it or report it.
The landlord, to get him out of the inn, replied with no less rhetoric
though with shorter words, and without calling upon him to pay the
reckoning let him go with a Godspeed.

CHAPTER IV.

OF WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR KNIGHT WHEN HE LEFT THE INN

Day was dawning when Don Quixote quitted the inn, so happy, so gay, so
exhilarated at findi