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It will be remembered that； after a copious meal； Sancho having neglected to replenish the gourd； both he and his master suffered greatly from thirst。 It was now 'so dark；' says the history； 'that they could see nothing； but they had not gone two hundred paces when a great noise of water reached their ears。 。 。 。 The sound rejoiced them exceedingly； and； stopping to listen from whence it came； they heard on a sudden another dreadful noise； which abated their pleasure occasioned by that of the water； especially Sancho's。 。 。 。 They heard a dreadful din of irons and chains rattling across one another； and giving mighty strokes in time and measure which； together with the furious noise of the water； would have struck terror into any other heart than that of Don Quixote。' For him it was but an opportunity for some valorous achievement。 So； having braced on his buckler and mounted Rosinante； he brandished his spear； and explained to his trembling squire that by the will of Heaven he was reserved for deeds which would obliterate the memory of the Platirs； Tablantes； the Olivantes； and Belianesas； with the whole tribe of the famous knights…errant of times past。
'Wherefore； straighten Rosinante's girths a little；' said he； 'and God be with you。 Stay for me here three days； and no more； if I do not return in that time you may go to Toboso； where you shall say to my incomparable Lady Dulcinea that her enthralled knight died in attempting things that might have made him worthy to be styled 〃hers。〃'
Sancho； more terrified than ever at the thoughts of being left alone； reminded his master that it was unwise to tempt God by undertaking exploits from which there was no escaping but by a miracle； and； in order to emphasize this very sensible remark； secretly tied Rosinante's hind legs together with his halter。 Seeing the success of his contrivance； he said： 'Ah； sir！ behold how Heaven； moved by my tears and prayers； has ordained that Rosinante cannot go；' and then warned him not to set Providence at defiance。 Still Sancho was much too frightened by the infernal clatter to relax his hold of the knight's saddle。 For some time he strove to beguile his own fears with a very long story about the goatherd Lope Ruiz； who was in love with the shepherdess Torralva … 'a jolly； strapping wench； a little scornful； and somewhat masculine。' Now； whether owing to the cold of the morning； which was at hand； or whether to some lenitive diet on which he had supped； it so befell that Sancho 。 。 。 what nobody could do for him。 The truth is； the honest fellow was overcome by panic； and under no circumstances would； or did； he for one instant leave his master's side。 Nay； when the knight spurred his steed and found it could not move； Sancho reminded him that the attempt was useless； since Rosinante was restrained by enchantment。 This the knight readily admitted； but stoutly protested that he himself was anything but enchanted by the close proximity of his squire。
We all remember the grave admonitions of Don Quixote； and the ingenious endeavours of Sancho to lay the blame upon the knight。 But the final words of the Don contain a moral apposite to so many other important situations； that they must not be omitted here。 'Apostare； replico Sancho； que pensa vuestra merced que yo he hecho de mi persona alguna cosa que no deba。' 'I will lay a wager；' replied Sancho； 'that your worship thinks that I have &c。' The brief； but memorable； answer was： 'Peor es meneallo； amigo Sancho；' which； as no translation could do justice to it； must be left as it stands。 QUIETA NON MOVERE。
We were nearly meeting with an adventure here。 While I was busy making a careful drawing of the BATANES； Cayley's pony was as much alarmed by the rushing waters as had been Sancho Panza。 In his endeavours to picket the animal； my friend dropped a pistol which I had lent him to practise with； although he carried a revolver of his own。 Not till he had tied up the pony at some little distance did he discover the loss。 In vain he searched the spot where he knew the pistol must have escaped from his FAJA。 Near it； three rough… looking knaves in shaggy goatskin garments； with guns over their shoulders； were watching the progress of my sketch。 On his return Cayley asked two of these （the third moved away as he came up） whether they had seen the pistol。 They declared they had not； upon which he said he must search them。 He was not a man to be trifled with； and although they refused at first； they presently submitted。 He then overtook the third； and at once accused him of the theft。 The man swore he knew nothing of the lost weapon； and brought his gun to the charge。 As he did so； Cayley caught sight of the pistol under the fellow's sheepskin jacket； and with characteristic promptitude seized it； while he presented a revolver at the thief's head。 All this he told me with great glee a minute or two later。
When we got back to Argamasilla the Medico was already awaiting us。 He conducted us to the house of the Quijanas； where an old woman…servant； lamp in hand； showed the way down a flight of steps into the dungeon。 It was a low vaulted chamber； eight feet high； ten broad； and twenty…four long； dimly lighted by a lancet window six feet from the ground。 She confidently informed us that Cervantes was in the habit of writing at the farthest end； and that he was allowed a lamp for the purpose。 We accepted the information with implicit faith； silently picturing on our mental retinas the image of him whose genius had brightened the dark hours of millions for over three hundred years。 One could see the spare form of the man of action pacing up and down his cell； unconscious of prison walls； roaming in spirit through the boundless realms of Fancy； his piercing eyes intent upon the conjured visions of his brain。 One noted his vast expanse of brow； his short； crisp； curly hair； his high cheek…bones and singularly high…bridged nose； his refined mouth； small projecting chin and pointed beard。 One noticed； too； as he turned； the stump of the left wrist clasped by the remaining hand。 Who could stand in such a presence and fail to bow with veneration before this insulted greatness！ Potentates pass like Ozymandias； but not the men who； through the ages； help to save us from this tread…mill world； and from ourselves。
We visited Cuenca； Segovia； and many an out…of…the…way spot。 If it be true； as Don Quixote declares； that 'No hay libro tan malo que no tenga alguna cosa buena' （'there is no book so worthless that has not some good in it'）； still more true is this of a country like Spain。 And the pleasantest places are just those which only by…roads lead to。 In and near the towns every other man； if not by profession still by practice； is a beggar。 From the seedy…looking rascal in the street； of whom you incautiously ask the way； and who piteously whines 'para zapatos' … for the wear and tear of shoe leather； to the highest official； one and all hold out their hands for the copper CUARTO or the eleemosynary sinecure。 As it was then； so is it now； the Government wan