by the Duke himself. But the dinner had not even
begun when Sancho unloosened his tongue and began with his proverbs,
much to the distress and mortification of his master, although to the
great enjoyment of the Duchess. Sancho had been standing by Don
Quixote, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at everything that was
taking place, for he had never in his life seen anything so sumptuous
and ceremonious. The exchange of courtesies between the Duke and our
Knight, when the latter finally was induced to accept the seat of
honor at the head of the table, impressed the squire considerably; and
it was then he thought the time ripe for the introduction of a story
about this matter of seats. The Duchess told him by all means to let
them hear it, and he began, telling it in the most roundabout way,
with twists and curves, and expeditions here and there to places and
matters that had as much to do with the story as had the proverbs
that he stuffed it with.

Don Quixote was beside himself, and the confessor interrupted the poor
squire impatiently again and again; but on he went. All the while the
Duchess was laughing so heartily that she could scarcely sit up
straight in the chair. And while the Duke engaged himself with Don
Quixote, she carried on a confidential conversation with Sancho, who
told her how he had tricked his master into believing that his Lady
Dulcinea was enchanted, saying she was as much enchanted as his
father.

When the confessor heard the sacrilegious conversation the Duchess was
having with Sancho, discussing giants and enchantments, he severely
reprimanded her and warned her that she would have to answer to God
for whatever this man did and said. Then, addressing the Duke, whom he
had forbidden to read the book about Don Quixote's adventures, he
said: "This Don Simpleton, or whatever his name is, cannot be such a
blockhead as your Excellency would have him, holding out encouragement
to him to go on with his vagaries and follies." And then he turned to
Don Quixote and told him to be on his way, and go home and bring up
his children, if he had any; and he called him a numbskull, and other
names, and a fool for believing that there were knights-errant in the
world and Dulcineas and other such silly things.

Don Quixote sat still and never moved a muscle while the churchman was
speaking, but as soon as he had said all he had to say, he sprang up
from his seat, trembling in his whole body, his face contorted wi