t on the worthy man; 'you lean too
much on one side, but that doubtless comes from the fall you have had.'

'You speak truly,' replied Don Quixote; 'and if I do not complain of my
hurt, it is because it was never heard that any knight complained of a
wound, however sore!'

'If that is so, I am thankful that I am only a squire,' answered Sancho;
'for this I can say, that I shall cry as loud as I please for any pain,
however little it may be--unless squires are forbidden to cry out as
well as knights-errant.'

At this Don Quixote laughed, in spite of his hurts, and bade him
complain whenever he pleased, for squires might lawfully do what was
forbidden to knighthood. And with that the conversation ended, as
Sancho declared it was their hour for dinner.

Towards three o'clock they returned to the road, which Don Quixote had
left on catching sight of the windmills. But before entering it the
knight thought well to give a warning to his squire.

'I would have you know, brother Sancho,' said he, 'that in whatsoever
danger you may see me you shall stand aside, and never seek to defend
me, unless those who set on me should come of base forefathers, and not
be people of gentle birth. For if those who attack me are knights, it is
forbidden by the laws of chivalry that a knight be attacked by any man
that has himself not received the honour of knighthood.'

'Your lordship shall be obeyed in all that you say,' answered Sancho,
'and the more readily that I am a man of peace, and like not brawls.
But, see, who are these that approach us?'

The question was natural, for the procession advancing along the road
was a strange one, even at that day. First came two monks of the Order
of St. Benedict, mounted on mules so large that Don Quixote, with some
reason, took them to be dromedaries. The better to conceal their faces
they had masks, and carried parasols. After them came a coach which had
for a guard four or five mounted men and two muleteers, and inside the
coach was seated a lady on her way to join her husband in the city of
Seville. In reality the monks were strangers to her, and had nothing to
do with her party, but this Don Quixote did not know, and, being ever on
the watch to give help to any who needed it, he said:

'Either my eyes deceive me, or this is the most wonderful adventure that
ever fell to the lot of a knight. For those black shapeless monsters
that you see yonder are magicians carrying off some princess, and