esiastic, "I take you to be more a chatterer than
a liar; but I don't know what I shall take you for by-and-by."

"Thou citest so many witnesses and proofs, Sancho," said Don Quixote,
"that I have no choice but to say thou must be telling the truth; go on,
and cut the story short, for thou art taking the way not to make an end
for two days to come."

"He is not to cut it short," said the duchess; "on the contrary, for my
gratification, he is to tell it as he knows it, though he should not
finish it these six days; and if he took so many they would be to me the
pleasantest I ever spent."

"Well then, sirs, I say," continued Sancho, "that this same gentleman,
whom I know as well as I do my own hands, for it's not a bowshot from my
house to his, invited a poor but respectable labourer-"

"Get on, brother," said the churchman; "at the rate you are going you
will not stop with your story short of the next world."

"I'll stop less than half-way, please God," said Sancho; "and so I say
this labourer, coming to the house of the gentleman I spoke of that
invited him--rest his soul, he is now dead; and more by token he died the
death of an angel, so they say; for I was not there, for just at that
time I had gone to reap at Tembleque-"

"As you live, my son," said the churchman, "make haste back from
Tembleque, and finish your story without burying the gentleman, unless
you want to make more funerals."

"Well then, it so happened," said Sancho, "that as the pair of them were
going to sit down to table--and I think I can see them now plainer than
ever-"

Great was the enjoyment the duke and duchess derived from the irritation
the worthy churchman showed at the long-winded, halting way Sancho had of
telling his story, while Don Quixote was chafing with rage and vexation.

"So, as I was saying," continued Sancho, "as the pair of them were going
to sit down to table, as I said, the labourer insisted upon the
gentleman's taking the head of the table, and the gentleman insisted upon
the labourer's taking it, as his orders should be obeyed in his house;
but the labourer, who plumed himself on his politeness and good breeding,
would not on any account, until the gentleman, out of patience, putting
his hands on his shoulders, compelled him by force to sit down, saying,
'Sit down, you stupid lout, for wherever I sit will be the head to you;
and that's the story, and, troth, I think it hasn't been brought in amiss
here."

Don Qui