Chapter 22

About how Amadis left the lady's castle, and what happened to him on the road.

[Sohail Castle, Fuengirola, Spain. This polygonal fortress stands on a small hill on the Mediterranean coast. A fort has stood there since the Phoenician era to protect the nearby town, but the current construction was built over an earlier Roman fortress and dates back to Moorish times. It was repeatedly attacked by the pirate Hayreddin Barbarossa in the 1500s and was sieged in 1810 during the War of Independence against Napoleonic troops. Photo by Cindy Van Vreede.]

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Amadis said goodbye to the lady and the girl, went on his way, and rode without finding adventure until he came to a forest called Angaduza. The dwarf was riding ahead, and a knight and damsel were coming down the road towards them. When they neared the dwarf, the knight took his sword in hand and charged at him to cut off his head. The dwarf, in fear, let himself fall from his nag and said:

"Help me, my lord! They want to kill me!"

Amadis, who had seen it, galloped forward and said:

"What is this, my lord knight? Why do you want to kill my dwarf? You act without courtesy to strike such a poor thing. Besides, he is mine, and ye have not asked me for the right to do so. Do not lay a hand on him, for I must protect him from you."

"I am sorry ye must protect him," the knight said, "but it still falls on me to cut off his head."

"First ye must do battle," Amadis said.

They took up their arms, raised their shields, and came at each other as fast as their horses could gallop. Their lances struck each others' shields so hard that the shields failed along with their chain mail, and their bodies and helmets and horses collided. Both knights and horses fell, crashing in different directions.

But immediately they got on their feet and began to fight with swords, with such cruelty and might that anyone who saw it would have been terrified, as they themselves were, for never before had they encountered an opponent who put his own life in such peril. And so they continued attacking each other with great slashing blows for much of the day until their shields were shredded and cut in many places, as were their coats of chain mail, which by then offered them little protection. Their swords had encountered many opportunities to strike and find flesh, and their helmets had been cut and dented everywhere.

They had become very tired, and they pulled back. The knight said to Amadis:

"Knight, do not suffer any more on account of this dwarf. Let me do to him what I wish, and then I shall compensate you for him."

"Do not speak of that," Amadis said, "for I shall protect the dwarf in every way possible."

"Then, truly," the knight said, "either I shall die or the damsel who asked for his head shall have it."

"And I tell you," Amadis said, "that one of our heads will be lost first."

He took up his shield and sword and attacked again with great anger because the knight arrogantly and senselessly wanted to kill the dwarf, who had done nothing to deserve it. But if Amadis was brave, the other never flagged. Instead, he proved himself to be very valiant, and they exchanged great blows and tried to show each other their might and courage; thus each expected nothing for himself but death. Though the other knight was seriously injured, he could still fight Amadis with great strength.

While they were in perilous battle, as ye hear, by chance a fully armed knight approached the damsel, and when he saw the fight, he began to cross himself, saying that he had never in his life seen such a fearsome confrontation between two knights. He asked the damsel if she knew who those knight were.

"Yes," she said, "for I brought them together, and I can only leave here happy, since it would please me if either one of them were to die, and much more if they both did."

"Surely, damsel," the knight said, "that is not a good desire nor a pleasure. Instead one should pray to God for two such good men. But tell me why ye despise them so."

"I shall tell you," the damsel said. "The one with the shield more intact is the man who more than any other in the world who despises Arcalaus, my uncle, and whose death Arcalaus desires more than any other. The man he is fighting is named Galaor, and he killed the man whom I loved most in the world. Galaor owed me a boon, and I made sure to ask for something that would bring him death. Since I knew the other knight is the best in the world, I asked for the head of that dwarf. And so this Galaor, a very strong knight, must give it to me, and the other must defend it. They are both close to death, and which gives me glory and pleasure."

When the knight heard this, he said:

"Cursed be the woman who with such treason sought to make the two best knights in the world die!"

He took his sword from its scabbard and give her such a blow on her neck that her head fell at the feet of her palfrey. He said:

"Take this reward for thy Uncle Arcalaus, who put me into a cruel prison and from which that good knight rescued me!"

Then as fast as his horse could gallop, he went shouting:

"Stay, my lord Amadis, for this is your brother, Sir Galaor, whom ye have sought!"

When Amadis heard this, he let his sword and shield fall to the ground and ran towards Galaor, saying:

"Oh, brother, may blessings come to he who made us know each other!"

Galaor said:

"Oh, wretched and ill-fated me! What have I done to my brother and my lord?"

He knelt before him, weeping, and begged for forgiveness. Amadis raised him up, embraced him, and said:

"My brother, the danger ye put me in was well employed, for it was testimony to the test I put to your skill and ability at arms."

Then they took off their helmets and rested, which they badly needed. The knight told them what the damsel had said and how he had killed her.

"May ye be blessed," Galaor said, "for now I am free from her boon."

"Truly, my lord," the dwarf said, "it pleases me even more that ye have been released from that boon. I am also puzzled that she despised me, for I had never seen her before."

Galaor told them what had happened with her and her lover, as ye have already heard, and the knight said:

"My lords, ye are badly wounded. I beg you to ride with me to my castle, which is nearby, and recover from your injuries."

"God give you blessings for what ye have done for us," Amadis said.

"Surely, my lord, I consider myself blessed to serve you, for you took me from the most cruel and vicious prison than any man has ever suffered."

"Where was that?" Amadis said.

"My lord," he said, "in the castle of Arcalaus the Sorcerer, for I am one of the many who escaped there at your hand."

"What is your name?" Amadis said.

"They call me Balais," he said, "and since my castle is Carsante, I am Balais of Carsante. And I beg you, my lord, to come with me."

Sir Galaor said:

"Let us go with this knight who esteems us so highly."

"Let us go, brother," Amadis said, "since it pleases you."

Then they rode as best they could and arrived at the castle, where they found knights and ladies and damsels who received them with great acclaim. Balais told them:

"My friends, ye see that I bring the height of knighthood of all the world. This one is Amadis, who took me out of that awful prison. The other is his brother, Sir Galaor. And I found them at such a moment that if God in His mercy had not led me that way, one of them would have died, or perhaps both. Serve them and honor them as ye should."

Then they helped them off their horses and took them to a chamber, where they were disarmed and put into fine beds. There they were healed by two nieces of Balais's wife, who knew much about that ministry. The lady, their aunt, came to Amadis and very humbly thanked him for what he had done for her husband by rescuing him from Arcalaus's prison.

While they were there, as ye hear, Amadis told Galaor how he had left the court of King Lisuarte to look for him, and how he had promised to bring him back. He asked him to come with him, for in the whole world there was no royal court more honorable nor one where so many good men stayed.

"My lord brother," Sir Galaor said, "all that which pleases you I must follow and do, although I have to say that I thought I ought not make myself known there until my deeds gave testimony in some measure resembling your own, or I should die in the attempt."

"Truly, brother," Amadis said, "do not hold back for that. Your fame there is already such that mine, if anything, is being eclipsed by it."

"Oh, my lord," Galaor said, "by God, do not say something so mad, for not only in deeds but in wisdom I could not approach or equal your great might!"

"Let us set this aside now," Amadis said, "for in your deeds and in mine, next to the great skill of our father, rightly there should be no difference."

And then he ordered his dwarf to leave immediately for the court of King Lisuarte, there to kiss the hands of the Queen on his behalf and tell her that he had found Galaor and as soon as their wounds were healed, they would come there. The dwarf obeyed the order of his lord and got on the road to Windsor, where the King was at that time, well attended by all his knights.
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Who was Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo?

We know little about the life of the knight who created the only surviving version of Amadís de Gaula.
[Detail from "The Descent from the Cross" by Pedro Machuca, which hangs in the Prado Museum. The Prado's online gallery displays the full painting with interesting commentary. The painting's frame includes an inscription that says, "This altarpiece was ordered made by do a Inés del Castillo, wife of Garcí Rodríguez de Montalvo, alderman of this town." The man in the armor is apparently Garcí Rodríguez de Montalvo, though he may be the author of Amadís or his nephew or grandson, who had the same name.]

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In about 1450 in the city of Medina del Campo, Garcí Rodríguez de Montalvo was born into the politically connected Pollino family, which held a hereditary seat on the city council. Medina del Campo, in the plains of central Castilla y León near Valladolid, enjoyed a large population and great wealth and from its two huge sheep fairs; wool held enormous economic importance at the time.

As a member of the minor nobility, Rodríguez de Montalvo grew up enjoying falconry and dreaming of great feats of arms, according to what he wrote about himself in the novel Las Sergas de Esplandián.

He had several children and earned his living as an alderman, verseeing municipal administration. The nobility also provided men at arms, and he joined the military regiment of Medina del Campo in the initial campaigns in the War of Granada. He was named a knight by the King Fernando and Queen Isabel in 1482 for his defense of Alama.

Although scholars debate the exact dates, he probably worked on Amadís de Gaula between 1482 and 1492, "correcting and polishing" medieval Books I, II, and III, adding Book IV (by changing the ending of Book III), and creating a fifth book about Amadis's son, Las Sergas de Esplandián (The Exploits of Espandian). Book I remains closest to the original. In some later editions, his name is inexplicably given as Garci Ordó ez de Montalvo.

In 1497 he (or his grandson or nephew of the same name) and another man from Medina del Campo were sued for adultery and sentenced to two months of exile from the province of Valladolid. In 1502, he was witness to a wedding — a secret one in Coca Castle between María de Fonseca and the Marqués del Cenete, Rodrigo de Mendoza; secret weddings were illegal at the time, but nothing involving the powerful Fonseca and Mendoza families could stay secret long.

These notes in legal documents are the only proof he was alive and doing anything.

He probably died in 1505, although that's far from certain. He may or may not have seen Amadís de Gaula achieve publication, since the date of its initial publication is also not completely certain.

In all, we don't know much about him or his life, and if he hadn't taken it upon himself to "bring together the writings of light things of little substance" so that "some shadow of remembrance remain of me" (as he wrote in the prologue to Books I to III), Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo would have been a forgotten footnote in history.

Ars longa, vita brevis.
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Chapter 21 [final third]

[How Amadis came to pledge his aid to the beautiful girl.]

[Detail from "The Lady and the Unicorn," a series of six wool and silk tapestries made from designs drawn in Paris in the late 1400s, on display at the Musée National du Moyen Âge, Paris, France.]

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The lions paced from one side of the courtyard to the other and tried to get out through the gate. The people in the castle did not dare leave the building, not even the damsel who cared for the animals, for they were so excited and enraged by the bloodshed that they would obey no one. The people inside did not know what to do.

They asked the lady to beg Amadis to open the gate, for they thought that he would do it for her rather than for anyone else because she was a woman. But she, thinking of the great and evil misdeed she had done him, did not dare ask for any mercy. Finally, when she could not hope for any other remedy, she came to the window and said:

"My lord knight, we have erred badly against you without realizing it, yet may your humble courtesy prevail over our guilt, and if it please ye, open the gate for the lions, because if they leave, we shall be unafraid and free from danger. Thus everything will be set right with you, as it ought to be, for what we did and committed. However, I also wish to say that my intention and will was only to have you imprisoned."

He gently responded:

"My lady, ye did not have to do what ye did, for I was willingly yours, as I am for all the ladies and damsels who need my service."

"Then, my lord," she said, "will ye not open the gate?"

"No, may God help me," he said. "Ye shall not have this courtesy from me."

The lady left the window weeping. The beautiful girl said:

"My lord knight, there are those here who are not guilty of the evil ye received. Instead, they deserve thanks for doing that which ye do not know of."

Amadis felt great affection for her, and said:

"My pretty friend, do ye wish me to open the gate?"

"I would be very thankful to you for it," she said.

Amadis went to open it, and the girl said:

"My lord knight, wait a little, and I will tell the lady to deliver you your men who are here."

Amadis appreciated that greatly and considered her discreet. The lady agreed and said that she would give him Gandalin and the dwarf immediately. And the old knight, of whom ye have heard, told Amadis to take a shield and a mace so he could kill the lions when they left the gate.

"I want those for another reason," Amadis said, "and may God not help me if I do ill to someone who has helped me so well."

"Truly, my lord," he said, "ye esteem loyalty in men as much as ye do in wild beasts."

Then they threw him a mace and a shield. Amadis put what remained of his sword in its scabbard and put the shield on his arm. With the mace in hand, he went to open the gate. The lions, when they realized it was open, ran out and fled into the fields.

Amadis, who had hidden at the side of the gate, entered the castle. Immediately the lady and everyone else came out and went to him and he to them, and they received him very well and brought him Gandalin and the dwarf.

Amadis told her:

"My lady, I lost my horse here. You may order another to be given to me, but if not, I shall leave on foot."

"My lord," the lady said, "remove your armor and rest here tonight, for it is late. Ye shall have a horse, since it would be unreasonable for such a knight to go on foot."

Amadis took what she said for the best, and went immediately to disarm in a chamber. They gave him a cloak to cover himself and took him to the windows, where the lady and the girl were waiting for him. When they saw him, they were amazed by how handsome he was and by his age, being so young to do such amazing feats at arms.

Amadis looked at the girl, who seemed even more beautiful to him, and then said to the lady:

"Tell me, lady, if ye please, why did the statue in the carriage have its head cut in two?"

"Knight," she said, "if ye promise to do what must be done, I will tell you, but if not, I must not."

"My lady," he said, "it is not wise for a man to grant what he does not know, but when I know it, if it is something that touches upon that which a knight may reasonably do, I will not fail to do it."

The lady said he had spoken well, and ordered all the ladies and damsels and other people to leave. She held the girl close and said:

"My lord knight, that figure in stone that ye saw was made in the memory of the father of this beautiful girl, and he lies within the tomb in the carriage. He was the crowned king, and he was sitting in his throne during a feast. His brother came up and said that the crown on his head equally belonged to him, since they were both in line for it. Then he took out his sword, which he had brought in under his cloak, and struck him on top of the crown. The sword drove through his head as ye saw it depicted.

"Since he had planned this treason, he had brought many knights with him, and because the King was dead, leaving no other son or daughter besides this girl, the brother immediately took over the kingdom, which he still has in his power. At that time, the old knight who brought you to this girl was on guard. He fled with her and brought her here to me in this castle because she is my niece. Then I acquired the body of her father, and every day I put it in the carriage and go with it through the countryside. I swore that I would show it to no one except by force of arms, and would not tell the victorious knight about it unless he agrees to avenge that treason.

"And if ye, good knight, obliged by reason and virtue, wish to justly employ the great valor and brave heart that God gave you in that mission, having you, I shall continue in the same way until I find two more knights, which shall be necessary so that you three can fight in this cause with that traitor and his two sons, since they have an agreement among themselves not to fight one by one but to be together in battle if they are challenged."

"My lady," Amadis said, "ye have done right to see a way to avenge the greatest treason I have ever heard of. And truly, he who did it cannot last for long without being dishonored, for God will not suffer it. If ye could manage that they came to fight one by one, with the help of God I would accept that battle."

"They will not," the lady said.

"Then, what do ye wish me to do?" he said.

"Be here a year from today if you are alive and have free will," she said. "By then I will have found the two knights, and ye shall be the third."

"I will gladly do that," Amadis said, "and do not trouble to look for the other two, for I plan to bring them on that date, and they will fight to do what is right."

He said this because he believed he would have found his brother Sir Galaor and his cousin Agrajes by then, and with them he would dare to attempt such a great deed.

The lady and girl thanked him sincerely, telling him to look for very good knights because they would have to be the best to win, for he could be sure that the evil king and his sons were among the most valiant and brave knights in the world.

Amadis said:

"If I find one of the knights that I seek, I would not be troubled much for the third, no matter how brave they are."

"My lord," the lady said, "where are ye from and where shall we seek you?"

"My lady," Amadis said, "I am from the court of King Lisuarte, and I am a knight of Queen Brisena, his wife."

"Well, now," she said, "let us eat, for after making such a pact, it will do us good."

Then they entered a very beautiful hall where they were given a fine meal, and when it was time to sleep, they took Amadis to a chamber to lodge in, and only the damsel who had set free the lions remained with him. She said:

"My lord knight, there is someone here who helped you, although ye do not know it."

"And how was that?" Amadis said.

"It was to save you from death, which had closed in on you," she said. "By order of my lady, that beautiful girl, who pitied you because of those who were doing you wrong, I let loose the lions."

Amadis was surprised by the discretion of a person of such a young age, and the damsel said:

"Truly, I believe that if she lives, she will have in her two things far above all else, beauty and wisdom."

Amadis said:

"Indeed, so it seems to me. Tell her that I owe her thanks, and she should consider me her knight."

"My lord," the damsel said, "what ye say gives me great pleasure, and she will be very happy when I tell her."

She left the chamber, and Amadis went to his bed, and Gandalin and the dwarf to another bed that lay at the feet of their lord. They had heard all that had been said. The dwarf, who did not know about the history of his lord and Oriana, thought that he loved the beautiful girl because he had paid so much attention to her and had promised to be her knight. This belief proved not to help Amadis and in time led to a disaster that brought Amadis close to a cruel death, as shall be told farther along.

The night passed and morning came. Amadis got up, heard Mass with the lady, and then asked for the names of those whom he would have to fight. She said:

"The father is called Abiseos, the older son Darasion and the other son Dramis, and all three are greatly experienced in arms."

"And the land," Amadis said, "what is its name?"

"Sobradisa," she said, "which shares a border with Serolois, and its other border is surrounded by the sea."

Then he armed himself, mounted a horse that the lady had given him, and, as he was about to say goodbye, the beautiful girl came with a fine sword in her hands that had been her father's. She said:

"My lord knight, for my love, carry this sword for as long as it lasts, and may God help you with it."

Amadis thanked her, laughing, and said:

"My dear lady, ye have me as your knight do to all things that may be to your benefit and honor."

She was delighted with that, and it showed in her face. The dwarf, who saw all this, said:

"Truly, lady, ye have won no small thing to have such a knight as yours."
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Don Quixote confronts lions in a parody of Amadis of Gaul's adventure

Wherein is shown the furthest and highest point which the unexampled courage of Don Quixote reached or could reach; together with the happily achieved adventure of the lions.

[This plaque is on the wall of the Convent of the Discalced Trinitarians on Lope de Vega Street in Madrid. It's near the site of Miguel de Cervantes' home, where he died in 1616. As the plaque says, he lies in the convent's crypt, in accordance with his last wishes, but don't plan on visiting him. Last year a newspaper reporter tried. "We know he's here," a nun told him, "but we don't know exactly where." Whether due to the remodeling of the chapel in the convent or to the amnesia of hundreds of years, Cervantes' remains have been misplaced. I think he would find that funny. Photo by Sue Burke.]

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Lions occur frequently in chivalrous tales, including Chapter 21 of Amadis of Gaul. Miguel de Cervantes parodied this episode in Don Quixote de la Mancha. A cart approaches with a mysterious cargo, which turns out to be a pair of lions, and Don Quixote madly challenges them, much as Amadis rashly challenged the knights guarding the cart. Cervantes also parodies the authorial outbursts in Amadis.

By the way, you can get the full text of Ormsby's landmark translation of Don Quixote from Project Gutenburg at:
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/996

Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes, translated by John Ormsby in 1885. Book II, Chapter XVII [excerpted]:

... Don Quixote put [his helmet] on, and settling himself firmly in his stirrups, easing his sword in the scabbard, and grasping his lance, he cried, "Now, come who will, here am I, ready to try conclusions with Satan himself in person!"

By this time the cart with the flags had come up, unattended by anyone except the carter on a mule, and a man sitting in front. Don Quixote planted himself before it and said, "Whither are you going, brothers? What cart is this? What have you got in it? What flags are those?"

To this the carter replied, "The cart is mine; what is in it is a pair of wild caged lions, which the governor of Oran is sending to court as a present to his Majesty; and the flags are our lord the King's, to show that what is here is his property."

"And are the lions large?" asked Don Quixote.

"So large," replied the man who sat at the door of the cart, "that larger, or as large, have never crossed from Africa to Spain; I am the keeper, and I have brought over others, but never any like these. They are male and female; the male is in that first cage and the female in the one behind, and they are hungry now, for they have eaten nothing today, so let your worship stand aside, for we must make haste to the place where we are to feed them."

Hereupon, smiling slightly, Don Quixote exclaimed, "Lion-whelps to me! To me whelps of lions, and at such a time! Then, by God, those gentlemen who send them here shall see if I am a man to be frightened by lions. Get down, my good fellow, and as you are the keeper open the cages, and turn me out those beasts, and in the midst of this plain I will let them know who Don Quixote of La Mancha is, in spite and in the teeth of the enchanters who send them to me."

... The carter, seeing the determination of this apparition in armour, said to him, "Please your worship, for charity's sake, señor, let me unyoke the mules and place myself in safety along with them before the lions are turned out; for if they kill them I am ruined for life, for all I possess is this cart and mules."

"O man of little faith," replied Don Quixote, "get down and unyoke; you will soon see that you are exerting yourself for nothing, and that you might have spared yourself the trouble."

The carter got down and with all speed unyoked the mules, and the keeper called out at the top of his voice, "I call all here to witness that against my will and under compulsion I open the cages and let the lions loose, and that I warn this gentleman that he will be accountable for all the harm and mischief which these beasts may do, and for my salary and dues as well. You, gentlemen, place yourselves in safety before I open, for I know they will do me no harm."

... Hearing this, Sancho with tears in his eyes entreated him to give up an enterprise compared with which the one of the windmills, and the awful one of the fulling mills, and, in fact, all the feats he had attempted in the whole course of his life, were cakes and fancy bread. "Look ye, señor," said Sancho, "there's no enchantment here, nor anything of the sort, for between the bars and chinks of the cage I have seen the paw of a real lion, and judging by that I reckon the lion such a paw could belong to must be bigger than a mountain."

"Fear at any rate," replied Don Quixote, "will make him look bigger to thee than half the world. Retire, Sancho, and leave me; and if I die here thou knowest our old compact; thou wilt repair to Dulcinea — I say no more." To these he added some further words that banished all hope of his giving up his insane project.

...Sancho was weeping over his master's death, for this time he firmly believed it was in store for him from the claws of the lions; and he cursed his fate and called it an unlucky hour when he thought of taking service with him again; but with all his tears and lamentations he did not forget to thrash Dapple so as to put a good space between himself and the cart. The keeper, seeing that the fugitives were now some distance off, once more entreated and warned him as before; but he replied that he heard him, and that he need not trouble himself with any further warnings or entreaties, as they would be fruitless, and bade him make haste.

During the delay that occurred while the keeper was opening the first cage, Don Quixote was considering whether it would not be well to do battle on foot, instead of on horseback, and finally resolved to fight on foot, fearing that Rocinante might take fright at the sight of the lions; he therefore sprang off his horse, flung his lance aside, braced his buckler on his arm, and drawing his sword, advanced slowly with marvellous intrepidity and resolute courage, to plant himself in front of the cart, commending himself with all his heart to God and to his lady Dulcinea.

It is to be observed, that on coming to this passage, the author of this veracious history breaks out into exclamations. "O doughty Don Quixote! High-mettled past extolling! Mirror, wherein all the heroes of the world may see themselves! Second modern Don Manuel de Leon, once the glory and honour of Spanish knighthood! In what words shall I describe this dread exploit, by what language shall I make it credible to ages to come, what eulogies are there unmeet for thee, though they be hyperboles piled on hyperboles! On foot, alone, undaunted, high-souled, with but a simple sword, and that no trenchant blade of the Perrillo brand, a shield, but no bright polished steel one, there stoodst thou, biding and awaiting the two fiercest lions that Africa's forests ever bred! Thy own deeds be thy praise, valiant Manchegan, and here I leave them as they stand, wanting the words wherewith to glorify them!"

Here the author's outburst came to an end, and he proceeded to take up the thread of his story, saying that the keeper, seeing that Don Quixote had taken up his position, and that it was impossible for him to avoid letting out the male without incurring the enmity of the fiery and daring knight, flung open the doors of the first cage, containing, as has been said, the lion, which was now seen to be of enormous size, and grim and hideous mien. The first thing he did was to turn round in the cage in which he lay, and protrude his claws, and stretch himself thoroughly; he next opened his mouth, and yawned very leisurely, and with near two palms' length of tongue that he had thrust forth, he licked the dust out of his eyes and washed his face; having done this, he put his head out of the cage and looked all round with eyes like glowing coals, a spectacle and demeanour to strike terror into temerity itself. Don Quixote merely observed him steadily, longing for him to leap from the cart and come to close quarters with him, where he hoped to hew him in pieces.

So far did his unparalleled madness go; but the noble lion, more courteous than arrogant, not troubling himself about silly bravado, after having looked all round, as has been said, turned about and presented his hind-quarters to Don Quixote, and very coolly and tranquilly lay down again in the cage. Seeing this, Don Quixote ordered the keeper to take a stick to him and provoke him to make him come out.

"That I won't," said the keeper; "for if I anger him, the first he'll tear in pieces will be myself. Be satisfied, sir knight, with what you have done, which leaves nothing more to be said on the score of courage, and do not seek to tempt fortune a second time. The lion has the door open; he is free to come out or not to come out; but as he has not come out so far, he will not come out today. Your worship's great courage has been fully manifested already; no brave champion, so it strikes me, is bound to do more than challenge his enemy and wait for him on the field; if his adversary does not come, on him lies the disgrace, and he who waits for him carries off the crown of victory."

"That is true," said Don Quixote; "close the door, my friend, and let me have, in the best form thou canst, what thou hast seen me do, by way of certificate; to wit, that thou didst open for the lion, that I waited for him, that he did not come out, that I still waited for him, and that still he did not come out, and lay down again. I am not bound to do more; enchantments avaunt, and God uphold the right, the truth, and true chivalry! Close the door as I bade thee, while I make signals to the fugitives that have left us, that they may learn this exploit from thy
lips."

The keeper obeyed, and Don Quixote, fixing on the point of his lance the cloth he had wiped his face with..., proceeded to recall the others, who still continued to fly, looking back at every step, all in a body, the gentleman bringing up the rear. Sancho, however, happening to observe the signal of the white cloth, exclaimed, "May I die, if my master has not overcome the wild beasts, for he is calling to us."

They all stopped, and perceived that it was Don Quixote who was making signals, and shaking off their fears to some extent, they approached slowly until they were near enough to hear distinctly Don Quixote's voice calling to them. They returned at length to the cart, and as they came up, Don Quixote said to the carter, "Put your mules to once more, brother, and continue your journey; and do thou, Sancho, give him two gold crowns for himself and the keeper, to compensate for the delay they have incurred through me."

"That will I give with all my heart," said Sancho; "but what has become of the lions? Are they dead or alive?"

The keeper, then, in full detail, and bit by bit, described the end of the contest, exalting to the best of his power and ability the valour of Don Quixote, at the sight of whom the lion quailed, and would not and dared not come out of the cage, although he had held the door open ever so long; and showing how, in consequence of his having represented to the knight that it was tempting God to provoke the lion in order to force him out, which he wished to have done, he very reluctantly, and altogether against his will, had allowed the door to be closed.

"What dost thou think of this, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Are there any enchantments that can prevail against true valour? The enchanters may be able to rob me of good fortune, but of fortitude and courage they cannot."

Sancho paid the crowns, the carter put to, the keeper kissed Don Quixote's hands for the bounty bestowed upon him, and promised to give an account of the valiant exploit to the King himself, as soon as he saw him at court.

"Then," said Don Quixote, "if his Majesty should happen to ask who performed it, you must say the Knight of the Lions; for it is my desire that into this the name I have hitherto borne of Knight of the Rueful Countenance be from this time forward changed, altered, transformed, and turned; and in this I follow the ancient usage of knights-errant, who changed their names when they pleased, or when it suited their purpose."...
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