ger. To this Don Quixote made no other answer, but that he knew
what he had to do. "Consider, however, what you do," replied the
gentleman, "for it is most certain that you are very much
mistaken."--"Well, sir," said Don Quixote, "if you care not to be
spectator of an action which you think is like to be tragical, e'en
put spurs to your mare, and provide for your safety." Sancho, hearing
this, came up to his master with tears in his eyes and begged him not
to go about this undertaking, to which the adventure of the windmills,
and the fulling mills, and all the brunts he had ever borne in his
life, were but cakes and gingerbread. "Good your worship," cried he,
"here is no enchantment in the case, nor anything like it. I peeped
even now through the grates of the cage, and I am sure I saw the claw
of a true lion, and such a claw as makes me think the lion that owns
it must be bigger than a mountain."--"At any rate," said Don Quixote,
"thy fear will make him bigger than half the world. Retire, Sancho,
and leave me, and if I chance to fall here thou knowest our old
agreement; repair to Dulcinea--I say no more." To this he added some
expressions which cut off all hopes of his giving over his mad design.

The gentleman in green would have opposed him; but, considering the
other much better armed, and that it was not prudence to encounter a
madman, as Don Quixote seemed to be, he even took the opportunity,
while he was hastening the keeper and repeating his threats, to march
off with his mare, as Sancho did with Dapple, and the carter with his
mules, every one making the best of their way to get as far as they
could from the wagon before the lions were let loose. Sancho at the
same time made lamentations for his master's death; for he gave him up
for lost, not questioning but the lions had already got him into their
clutches. He cursed his ill fortune, and the hour he came again to his
service; but for all his wailing and lamenting, he punched on poor
Dapple, to get as far as he could from the lions. The keeper,
perceiving the persons who fled to be at a good distance, fell to
arguing and entreating Don Quixote as he had done before. But he told
him again that all his reasons and entreaties were but in vain, and
bid him say no more, but immediately dispatch.

Now while the keeper took time to open the foremost cage, Don Quixote
stood debating with himself, whether he had best make his attack on
foot or on horseback; and upon m