's bar-throwing and
sword-play. They won't give a pint of wine at the tavern for a good cast
of the bar or a neat thrust of the sword. Talents and accomplishments
that can't be turned into money, let Count Dirlos have them; but when
such gifts fall to one that has hard cash, I wish my condition of life
was as becoming as they are. On a good foundation you can raise a good
building, and the best foundation in the world is money."

"For God's sake, Sancho," said Don Quixote here, "stop that harangue; it
is my belief, if thou wert allowed to continue all thou beginnest every
instant, thou wouldst have no time left for eating or sleeping; for thou
wouldst spend it all in talking."

"If your worship had a good memory," replied Sancho, "you would remember
the articles of our agreement before we started from home this last time;
one of them was that I was to be let say all I liked, so long as it was
not against my neighbour or your worship's authority; and so far, it
seems to me, I have not broken the said article."

"I remember no such article, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "and even if it
were so, I desire you to hold your tongue and come along; for the
instruments we heard last night are already beginning to enliven the
valleys again, and no doubt the marriage will take place in the cool of
the morning, and not in the heat of the afternoon."

Sancho did as his master bade him, and putting the saddle on Rocinante
and the pack-saddle on Dapple, they both mounted and at a leisurely pace
entered the arcade. The first thing that presented itself to Sancho's
eyes was a whole ox spitted on a whole elm tree, and in the fire at which
it was to be roasted there was burning a middling-sized mountain of
faggots, and six stewpots that stood round the blaze had not been made in
the ordinary mould of common pots, for they were six half wine-jars, each
fit to hold the contents of a slaughter-house; they swallowed up whole
sheep and hid them away in their insides without showing any more sign of
them than if they were pigeons. Countless were the hares ready skinned
and the plucked fowls that hung on the trees for burial in the pots,
numberless the wildfowl and game of various sorts suspended from the
branches that the air might keep them cool. Sancho counted more than
sixty wine skins of over six gallons each, and all filled, as it proved
afterwards, with generous wines. There were, besides, piles of the
whitest bread, like the heaps of cor