Miguel Cervantes

THE HISTORY OF DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA
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CHAPTER LXXXIV.

What happened to Sancho by the way; with other matters which you will have no more to do than to see.

Sancho pursued his way until the night overtook him within half a league of the duke's castle. However, as it was summer-time, he was not much uneasy, and chose to go out of the road, with a design to stay there till the morning. But, while he sought some place where he might rest himself, he and Dapple tumbled of a sudden into a very deep hole, among the ruins of an old building. As he was falling, he fancied himself sinking down into some bottomless abyss; but he was in no such danger, for by the time he had descended somewhat lower than eighteen feet, Dapple made a full stop at the bottom, and his rider found himself still on his back, without the least hurt in the world. Presently Sancho began to consider the condition of his bones, held his breath, and felt all about him; and finding himself sound and in a whole skin, he thought he could never give Heaven sufficient thanks for his wondrous preservation; for at first he gave himself over for lost and broken into a thousand pieces. He groped with both hands about the walls of the pit to try if it were possible to get out without help; but he found them all so steep, that there was not the least hold or footing to get up. This grieved him to the soul; and to increase his sorrow, Dapple began to raise his voice in a very piteous and doleful manner, which pierced his master's very heart: nor did the poor beast make such moan without reason, for to say the truth, he was but in a woful condition. "Woe's me," cried Sancho, "what sudden and unthought of mischances every foot befall us poor wretches in this miserable world! Who would have thought that he who but yesterday saw himself seated on the throne of an island-governor, and had servants and vassals at his beck, should to-day find himself buried in a pit, without the least soul to help him or come to his relief? Here we are likely to perish with hunger, I and my ass, if we do not die before, he of his bruises, and I of grief and anguish. At least, I shall not be so lucky as was my master Don Quixote, when he went down into the cave of the enchanter Montesinos. He found better fare there than he could have at his own house; the cloth was laid, and his bed made, and he saw nothing but pleasant visions; but I am like to see nothing here but toads and snakes. Unhappy creature that I am! What have my foolish designs and whimsies brought me to?"

[Pg 369] At length, after a whole night's lamenting and complaining (...)

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