of his courtesy where these people were going, and why
they were chained in such a manner.

The guard, who had never read any of the romances of chivalry, and was
quite ignorant of the speech of knights, answered roughly that they were
felons going to the galleys, and that was all that mattered to anybody.
But Don Quixote was not to be put aside like this.

'By your leave,' he said, 'I would speak with them, and ask of every man
the reason of his misfortune.'

Now this civility of the knight made the soldiers feel ashamed of their
own rudeness, so one of them replied more gently than before:

'We have here set down the crimes of every man singly, but if your
worship pleases you may inquire of the prisoners yourself. And be sure
you will hear all about their tricks, and more too, for it is a mighty
pleasure to them to tell their tales.'

The soldier spoke truly; and wonderful were the stories which Don
Quixote listened to and believed, until the knight, smitten by
compassion, turned to the guards and implored them to set free the poor
fellows, whose sins would be punished elsewhere.

'I ask you to do this as a favour,' he ended, 'for I would willingly owe
you this grace. But, if you deny me, my arm and my sword will teach you
to do it by force.'

'That is a merry jest indeed,' cried the soldier. 'So we are to let go
the king's prisoners just because you tell us to do it. You had better
mind your own business, fair sir, and set that pot straight on your
head, and do not waste your time in looking for five feet in a cat.'

Don Quixote was so furious at the man's words that he felled him to the
earth with a blow from his sword, while for a moment the other guards
stood mute from surprise. Then seizing their weapons they rushed at Don
Quixote, who sat firm in his saddle as became a knight, awaiting their
onslaught. But for all his valour it would have gone hard with him had
not the attention of the soldiers been hastily called off by the
galley-slaves, who were taking advantage of the tumult to break their
fetters. The chief among them had snatched the sword and firelock of the
man whom Don Quixote had overthrown, and by merely pointing it at the
other guards he so frightened them that they fled in all directions,
followed by a shower of stones from the rest of the captives.

'Let us depart from here,' whispered Sancho Panza, knowing better than
his master in what a sorry plight they might presently find themselves.