but as the vizor over the Don's face
prevented his answer being understood, the labourer pulled it off with
some trouble, and then stood, staring with surprise.

'Master Quixada!' cried he, wiping off the blood as he spoke, 'what
villain has served you like this?' but, as Don Quixote only replied to
his questions with long stories of the heroes of romance, the man gave
it up, and after gathering up the stray bits of armour, and even the
broken lance, helped the Don on to his own ass and took Rozinante by the
bridle.

In this manner Don Quixote returned home.

When the knight dismounted and entered the house he found his
housekeeper and niece filled with dismay, and bewailing his loss to the
priest and the barber, who were wont to spend many an hour in company
with the Don, listening to the strange tales that were always on his
tongue. The joy with which they heard his well-known knock, in the
middle of their discourses, was somewhat spoilt when they saw the
condition he was in, and he stopped them quickly when they flew to
embrace him.

'Let no one touch me,' cried he, 'for by the falling of my horse I am
sore wounded. Carry me to bed, and summon the wise woman Urganda to heal
me with her enchanted water.'

'Oh, never fear, your worship, we can cure you without her,' answered
the housekeeper; 'and right glad we are to see you back, wounded or
not.'

So between them all they bore him up the narrow stairs and laid him on
his bed. And when he was undressed they sought his wounds, but found
none, only a black bruise so they told him.

'Is it so?' he answered. 'Then the deeds that I did were yet more
valorous than I thought. It was while I was fighting with ten giants,
the biggest and strongest who ever gave battle to any Christian knight,
that Rozinante fell, and I with him.'

'Oh! so there are giants in the dance now,' whispered the priest to the
barber. 'I will not close my eyes this night till the books which have
brought this evil are safely in the fire.' And, so saying, they left Don
Quixote to sleep.

* * * * *

He was still sleeping next morning, when the priest came to ask for the
keys of the little room where Don Quixote kept the old books he so much
loved. They were handed to him with joy by the girl, who held books to
be the enemy of all mankind, and when they all four entered they found
more than a hundred volumes large and small, which was a great number
for so poor