order
of chivalry which I profess suffers not that I should do harm to any,
least of all to maidens of lofty lineage, such as I perceive you to be."

Hearing themselves accosted by that extraordinary figure in language to
which they were so little used, the women could not restrain their
mirth, but laughed so long and loud that Don Quixote began to be vexed
and said in a tone of grave rebuke, "Beauty and discourtesy are
ill-matched together, and unseemly is the laugh which folly breeds in a
vacant mind. Take not my words amiss, for I mean no offence, but am
ready to serve you with heart and hand."

At this dignified reproof, the damsels only laughed louder than before,
and there is no saying what might have come of it if the innkeeper, who
appeared at this moment, had not undertaken the office of peacemaker,
for which he was well fitted, being a fat, good-humored fellow, who
loved a quiet life. At first, when he saw that fantastic warrior on his
spectral steed, he was much inclined to join the girls in their noisy
merriment. But finding some ground for alarm in so many engines of war,
he contrived to swallow his laughter, and going up to Don Quixote, said
to him civilly enough: "If your honor is in search of quarters for the
night, you will find in this inn all that you require excepting a bed,
which is not to be had here."

Finding the governor of the fortress--that is to say, the landlord of
the inn--so obsequious, Don Quixote replied cheerfully: "Sir Castellan,
you will not find me hard to please, for

Arms are all my rich array,
My repose to fight alway."

"If that be your case, then," answered the innkeeper, humoring his
strange guest, "'tis plain that

Your couch is the field, your pillow a shield,
Your slumber a vigil from dusk until day:

and therefore you may dismount in the full assurance of finding under my
humble roof divers good reasons for keeping awake for a twelvemonth,
should such be your desire."

As he said this, he went and held the stirrup for Don Quixote, who was
so weak from his long fast that it cost him much pain and effort to
dismount. "I commend to thy especial care this my good steed," said he,
as soon as he had found his feet: "he is the rarest piece of horseflesh
that ever lived by bread."

The innkeeper bestowed but one glance on poor Rozinante, and finding
little to admire in him, he thrust him hastily into the stable and came
back to attend to