mistress of his soul, the incomparable one of El Toboso of La Mancha,
to whom he had sworn eternal love and undying admiration. And at last
he admonished the innkeeper's daughter to retire to her beauteous
apartment, lest he should be forced to prove himself ungrateful. If,
he said, she would demand any other thing than love, he would
willingly grant her the favor, even unto a lock of Medusa's hair.

The wench immediately realized that her opportunity had come, so she
quickly said that she cared for no lock of Medusa's or any other, but
would be satisfied to feel the touch of his hand.

Before sanctioning this demand, Don Quixote asserted his virtuousness
again by stipulating that she must not kiss it, only touch it. He
understood, of course, that any woman would be likely to ask such a
favor of him at any time (for who would not be proud to have touched
the sinewy hand of so remarkable and famous a knight errant as
himself?) but he insisted on being discreet at all times. So he
climbed up and stood on the saddle of his hack, reaching his lean arm
through the hole in the wall.

By this time the Asturian maid had procured from the stable the halter
of Sancho's donkey, on which her young mistress quickly made a running
knot and passed it over Don Quixote's wrist. As soon as she had
proceeded thus far in her deviltry, she jumped down from the hole and
made fast the other end of the halter to the bolt of the door. Then
she and her maid swiftly made off, bursting with laughter, leaving the
knight to complain of the roughness of her touch.

But after a while Don Quixote began to realize that no one was there to
listen to his complaints, and also that he was not standing too securely
on his Rocinante's back; for should Rocinante move without being urged--a
most unusual event--he would be left to hang in the air by one arm. It
suddenly came to him that he was a victim of enchantment, and he called
on all the saints, and Dulcinea, and Sancho Panza, on all kind magicians
and sages, and every one else he could think of, to come to his aid.

But no one came, until the morning brought four travelers on horseback.
They found the gate still shut, so they called to Don Quixote, who by
this time was almost exhausted. But although wearied, his spirit had not
left him. He reprimanded the strangers for their insolence; asked whether
they were so stupid they failed to realize that as yet the castle gates
were not open, that all were as