pleasure."

Sancho returned to his master mightily pleased with this gratifying
answer, and told him all the great lady had said to him, lauding to the
skies, in his rustic phrase, her rare beauty, her graceful gaiety, and
her courtesy. Don Quixote drew himself up briskly in his saddle, fixed
himself in his stirrups, settled his visor, gave Rocinante the spur, and
with an easy bearing advanced to kiss the hands of the duchess, who,
having sent to summon the duke her husband, told him while Don Quixote
was approaching all about the message; and as both of them had read the
First Part of this history, and from it were aware of Don Quixote's crazy
turn, they awaited him with the greatest delight and anxiety to make his
acquaintance, meaning to fall in with his humour and agree with
everything he said, and, so long as he stayed with them, to treat him as
a knight-errant, with all the ceremonies usual in the books of chivalry
they had read, for they themselves were very fond of them.

Don Quixote now came up with his visor raised, and as he seemed about to
dismount Sancho made haste to go and hold his stirrup for him; but in
getting down off Dapple he was so unlucky as to hitch his foot in one of
the ropes of the pack-saddle in such a way that he was unable to free it,
and was left hanging by it with his face and breast on the ground. Don
Quixote, who was not used to dismount without having the stirrup held,
fancying that Sancho had by this time come to hold it for him, threw
himself off with a lurch and brought Rocinante's saddle after him, which
was no doubt badly girthed, and saddle and he both came to the ground;
not without discomfiture to him and abundant curses muttered between his
teeth against the unlucky Sancho, who had his foot still in the shackles.
The duke ordered his huntsmen to go to the help of knight and squire, and
they raised Don Quixote, sorely shaken by his fall; and he, limping,
advanced as best he could to kneel before the noble pair. This, however,
the duke would by no means permit; on the contrary, dismounting from his
horse, he went and embraced Don Quixote, saying, "I am grieved, Sir
Knight of the Rueful Countenance, that your first experience on my ground
should have been such an unfortunate one as we have seen; but the
carelessness of squires is often the cause of worse accidents."

"That which has happened me in meeting you, mighty prince," replied Don
Quixote, "cannot be unfortunate, even if