s we
shall begin to make our fortunes; for this is righteous warfare, and
it is God's good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of
the earth."

"What giants?" said Sancho Panza.

"Those thou seest there," answered his master, "with the long arms;
and some have them nearly two leagues long."

"Look, your Worship," said Sancho; "what we see there are not giants
but windmills, and what seem to be their arms are the sails that
turned by the wind make the millstones go."

"It is easy to see," replied Don Quixote, "that thou art not used to
this business of adventures; those are giants; and if thou art afraid,
away with thee out of this and betake thyself to prayer, while I
engage them in fierce and unequal combat."

So saying, he gave the spur to his steed Rosinante, heedless of the
cries his squire Sancho sent after him, warning him that most
certainly they were windmills and not giants he was going to attack.
He however was so positive they were giants that he neither heard the
cries of Sancho, nor perceived, near as he was, what they were; but
made at them, shouting, "Fly not, cowards and vile beings, for it is a
single knight that attacks you!"

A slight breeze at this moment sprang up, and the great sails began to
move; seeing which, Don Quixote exclaimed, "Though ye flourish more
arms than the giant Briareus, ye have to reckon with me."

So saying, and commending himself with all his heart to his lady
Dulcinea, imploring her to support him in such a peril, with lance in
rest and covered by his buckler, he charged at Rosinante's fullest
gallop and fell upon the first mill that stood in front of him; but as
he drove his lance-point into the sail the wind whirled it round with
such force that it shivered the lance to pieces, sweeping with it
horse and rider, who went rolling over on the plain in a sorry
condition. Sancho hastened to his assistance as fast as his ass could
go, and when he came up found him unable to move, with such a shock
had Rosinante fallen with him.

"God bless me!" said Sancho, "did I not tell your Worship to mind what
you were about, for they were only windmills? and no one could have
made any mistake about it but one who had something of the same kind
in his head."

"Hush, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote; "the fortunes of war more
than any other are liable to frequent fluctuations; and moreover I
think, and it is the truth, that that same sage Friston who carried
off m