ene and filthy.

They asked him whither he meant to direct his steps. He replied, to
Saragossa, to take part in the harness jousts which were held in that
city every year. Don Juan told him that the new history described how Don
Quixote, let him be who he might, took part there in a tilting at the
ring, utterly devoid of invention, poor in mottoes, very poor in costume,
though rich in sillinesses.

"For that very reason," said Don Quixote, "I will not set foot in
Saragossa; and by that means I shall expose to the world the lie of this
new history writer, and people will see that I am not the Don Quixote he
speaks of."

"You will do quite right," said Don Jeronimo; "and there are other jousts
at Barcelona in which Senor Don Quixote may display his prowess."

"That is what I mean to do," said Don Quixote; "and as it is now time, I
pray your worships to give me leave to retire to bed, and to place and
retain me among the number of your greatest friends and servants."

"And me too," said Sancho; "maybe I'll be good for something."

With this they exchanged farewells, and Don Quixote and Sancho retired to
their room, leaving Don Juan and Don Jeronimo amazed to see the medley he
made of his good sense and his craziness; and they felt thoroughly
convinced that these, and not those their Aragonese author described,
were the genuine Don Quixote and Sancho. Don Quixote rose betimes, and
bade adieu to his hosts by knocking at the partition of the other room.
Sancho paid the landlord magnificently, and recommended him either to say
less about the providing of his inn or to keep it better provided.

CHAPTER LX.

OF WHAT HAPPENED DON QUIXOTE ON HIS WAY TO BARCELONA

It was a fresh morning giving promise of a cool day as Don Quixote
quitted the inn, first of all taking care to ascertain the most direct
road to Barcelona without touching upon Saragossa; so anxious was he to
make out this new historian, who they said abused him so, to be a liar.
Well, as it fell out, nothing worthy of being recorded happened him for
six days, at the end of which, having turned aside out of the road, he
was overtaken by night in a thicket of oak or cork trees; for on this
point Cide Hamete is not as precise as he usually is on other matters.

Master and man dismounted from their beasts, and as soon as they had
settled themselves at the foot of the trees, Sancho, who had had a good
noontide meal that day, let himself, without more ado, p