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The pleasant dialogue between Don Quixote and his Squire continued; with other adventures.
"All this is mighty well," said Don Quixote; "proceed therefore:
you arrived, and how was that queen of beauty then employed?
On my conscience thou foundst her stringing of orient
pearls, or embroidering some curious device in gold for me her
captive knight; was it not so, my Sancho?" "No," answered
the squire; "I found her winnowing a parcel of wheat very
seriously in the back-yard." "Then," said the Don, "you may
rest assured that every corn of that wheat was a grain of pearl,
since she did it the honour of touching it with her divine hand.
Didst thou observe the quality of the wheat, was it not of the
finest sort?" "Very indifferent, I thought," said the squire.
[Pg 116]
"Well, this at least you must allow; it must make the finest
whitest bread, if sifted by her white hands. But go on; when
you delivered my letter, did she kiss it? Did she treasure it in
her bosom? or what ceremony did she use worthy such a letter?
How did she behave herself?" "Why truly, sir," answered
Sancho, "when I offered her the letter she was very busy handling
her sieve; 'and, pr'ythee, honest friend,' said she, 'do so
much as lay that letter down upon that sack there; I cannot
read it till I have winnowed out what is in my hands.'" "O
unparalleled discretion!" cried Don Quixote; "she knew that a
perusal required leisure, and therefore deferred it for her more
pleasing and private hours. But oh, my squire, while she was
thus employed what conference passed? What did she ask about
her knight, and what did you reply? Say all, say all, my dearest
Sancho, let not the smallest circumstance escape the tongue; speak
all that thought can frame or pen describe." "Her questions
were easily answered, sir," said Sancho; "for she asked me none
at all. I told her, indeed, in what a sad pickle I had left you,
and how disconsolate you were; that you eat and slept like the
brute beasts; that you would let a razor as soon touch your
throat as your beard; that you were still blubbering and crying,
or lamenting and cursing your fortune." "There you mistook,"
replied Don Quixote; "I rather bless my fortune, and always
shall, while life affords me breath, since I am thought to merit
the esteem of so high a lady as Dulcinea del Toboso. But now,"
continued the knight, "supposing the corn winnowed and despatched
to the mill, what did she after she had read my letter?"
"Your letter, sir," answered Sancho, "your letter was not read
at all, sir; as, for her part, she said she could neither read nor
write, and she would trust nobody else, lest they should tell tales,
and so she cunningly tore your letter. She said that what I told
her by word of mouth of your love and sufferings was enough:
to make short now, she gave her service to you, and said she had
rather see you than hear (...)
(......)
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