ossa, he went on,
and how he fared has been already told. He returned to the duke's castle
and told him all, what the conditions of the combat were, and how Don
Quixote was now, like a loyal knight-errant, returning to keep his
promise of retiring to his village for a year, by which time, said the
bachelor, he might perhaps be cured of his madness; for that was the
object that had led him to adopt these disguises, as it was a sad thing
for a gentleman of such good parts as Don Quixote to be a madman. And so
he took his leave of the duke, and went home to his village to wait there
for Don Quixote, who was coming after him. Thereupon the duke seized the
opportunity of practising this mystification upon him; so much did he
enjoy everything connected with Sancho and Don Quixote. He had the roads
about the castle far and near, everywhere he thought Don Quixote was
likely to pass on his return, occupied by large numbers of his servants
on foot and on horseback, who were to bring him to the castle, by fair
means or foul, if they met him. They did meet him, and sent word to the
duke, who, having already settled what was to be done, as soon as he
heard of his arrival, ordered the torches and lamps in the court to be
lit and Altisidora to be placed on the catafalque with all the pomp and
ceremony that has been described, the whole affair being so well arranged
and acted that it differed but little from reality. And Cide Hamete says,
moreover, that for his part he considers the concocters of the joke as
crazy as the victims of it, and that the duke and duchess were not two
fingers' breadth removed from being something like fools themselves when
they took such pains to make game of a pair of fools.

As for the latter, one was sleeping soundly and the other lying awake
occupied with his desultory thoughts, when daylight came to them bringing
with it the desire to rise; for the lazy down was never a delight to Don
Quixote, victor or vanquished. Altisidora, come back from death to life
as Don Quixote fancied, following up the freak of her lord and lady,
entered the chamber, crowned with the garland she had worn on the
catafalque and in a robe of white taffeta embroidered with gold flowers,
her hair flowing loose over her shoulders, and leaning upon a staff of
fine black ebony. Don Quixote, disconcerted and in confusion at her
appearance, huddled himself up and well-nigh covered himself altogether
with the sheets and counterpane of the