interrupted and proposed that they spend the evening in pleasant
conversation at the inn instead of continuing their journey that
night.

While that was being agreed upon, two travelers, a man and a woman,
dressed in Moorish fashion, came to the inn. They asked for rooms
overnight, but were told there were none to be had. Dorothea felt
sorry for the strange lady--whose face was covered with a veil--and
told her that she and Luscinda would gladly share their room with her.
The lady rose from her chair, bowed her head and made a sign with her
hands as if to thank them; and they concluded, because of her silence,
that she could not speak their language. At this moment her companion
returned to her and, seeing her surrounded by the guests at the inn,
he confirmed what they had thought, for he made the remark that it was
useless to address any questions to her as she could speak no other
tongue than her own. They explained that they had asked no questions,
but had only offered her quarters for the night. When the stranger
learned this, it seemed to please him very much, and he thanked them
profusely.

As they were all curious to know who the lady was, they asked the
stranger whether or not she was a Christian. He replied that while she
was not, she wished to become one; and he informed them that she was a
lady of high rank from Algiers. This excited a desire to see her face
as well as to know whom she might be, and Dorothea could not resist
the temptation of asking her to remove her veil. When her companion
had told her Dorothea's desire, and the Moorish lady had removed her
veil, they all stood in awe, for they beheld a face that seemed to
them lovelier than any they had ever beheld before. Don Fernando asked
her name, and the stranger replied it was Lela Zoraida; but when the
fair lady heard him speak this name, she exclaimed emphatically that
she was called Maria and not Zoraida. Luscinda embraced her in a
loving way and said they would call her by that name.

The supper was now ready and all placed themselves at a long table, at
the head of which Don Quixote was asked to seat himself. At his
request Dorothea--as the Princess Micomicona in disguise--sat on his
right. All were merry and content and many pleasantries were passed.
But suddenly Don Quixote stopped eating, rose, and with inspiration in
his eyes and voice, began a long discourse on knight-errantry,
reviewing the great good it had done for mankind. The langu