he matter.

Maritornes alone, fearing punishment, slipped round another way, and
unfastened the cord which bound Don Quixote, who dropped to the ground
as the travellers came up, and in answer to their questions mounted
Rozinante, and, after riding round the field, reined up suddenly in
front of them, crying:

'Whoever shall proclaim that I have suffered enchantment I give him the
lie, and challenge him to meet me in single combat.'

But instead of answering his defiance the guests merely stood and stared
at him, till the innkeeper whispered that he was a noble gentleman, a
little touched in his wits, so they took no further notice of his words.
This so enraged Don Quixote that he was only withheld from fighting them
all by remembering that nowhere in the records of chivalry was it
lawful to undertake a second adventure before the first had drawn to a
good end.

Meanwhile a new strife had begun in the inn, for two of the travellers
who had lodged there during the night were found trying to leave the inn
without paying their reckoning. But it happened that the landlord
detected their purpose and held them fast, upon which the two fellows
set on him with blows, till his daughter ran to Don Quixote and implored
his help.

'Beautiful damsel,' replied the knight slowly, 'just now I cannot listen
to your prayer, for the laws of chivalry forbid my engaging in a fresh
adventure. But tell your father to keep his assailants at bay, while I
ride to the Princess Micomicona, in whose service I already am, and ask
her leave to aid him in his trouble.'

'And long before your return,' cried Maritornes, 'my poor master will be
in another world'; but Don Quixote, not heeding her, turned his back,
and, falling on his knees before a lady present, begged that she would
grant him permission to rescue the lord of the castle.

This being given, the knight braced on his shield and drew his sword,
and hastened to the inn door, where the two men were still beating the
landlord. But the moment he reached the combatants he stopped and drew
back, in spite of the entreaties of Maritornes and of the innkeeper's
wife.

'It has come into my mind,' he said, 'that it is not lawful for me to
give battle to any except belted knights. Now there are no knights here,
and the task belongs to my squire Sancho, who I will bid to undertake it
in my stead.'

So the fight still raged, till at length the men's arms grew tired,
which, Don Quixote seeing, h