the height of rashness; for I know well what valour is,
that it is a virtue that occupies a place between two vicious extremes,
cowardice and temerity; but it will be a lesser evil for him who is
valiant to rise till he reaches the point of rashness, than to sink until
he reaches the point of cowardice; for, as it is easier for the prodigal
than for the miser to become generous, so it is easier for a rash man to
prove truly valiant than for a coward to rise to true valour; and believe
me, Senor Don Diego, in attempting adventures it is better to lose by a
card too many than by a card too few; for to hear it said, 'such a knight
is rash and daring,' sounds better than 'such a knight is timid and
cowardly.'"

"I protest, Senor Don Quixote," said Don Diego, "everything you have said
and done is proved correct by the test of reason itself; and I believe,
if the laws and ordinances of knight-errantry should be lost, they might
be found in your worship's breast as in their own proper depository and
muniment-house; but let us make haste, and reach my village, where you
shall take rest after your late exertions; for if they have not been of
the body they have been of the spirit, and these sometimes tend to
produce bodily fatigue."

"I take the invitation as a great favour and honour, Senor Don Diego,"
replied Don Quixote; and pressing forward at a better pace than before,
at about two in the afternoon they reached the village and house of Don
Diego, or, as Don Quixote called him, "The Knight of the Green Gaban."

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE IN THE CASTLE OR HOUSE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE
GREEN GABAN, TOGETHER WITH OTHER MATTERS OUT OF THE COMMON

Don Quixote found Don Diego de Miranda's house built in village style,
with his arms in rough stone over the street door; in the patio was the
store-room, and at the entrance the cellar, with plenty of wine-jars
standing round, which, coming from El Toboso, brought back to his memory
his enchanted and transformed Dulcinea; and with a sigh, and not thinking
of what he was saying, or in whose presence he was, he exclaimed--

"O ye sweet treasures, to my sorrow found!
Once sweet and welcome when 'twas heaven's good-will.

"O ye Tobosan jars, how ye bring back to my memory the
sweet object of my bitter regrets!"

The student poet, Don Diego's son, who had come out with his mother to
receive him, heard this exclamation, and both mother and son were fille