But giving is the test of love.

In this manner all the figures of the two parties advanced and
retreated, and each made its movements and recited its verses, some
elegant, and some ridiculous of which Don Quixote, who had a very good
memory, treasured up the foregoing only.

The bridal pair proceeded towards a theatre on one side of the arbor,
decorated with tapestry and garlands, where the nuptial ceremony was to
be performed, and whence they were to view the dances and shows
prepared for the occasion. Immediately on their arrival at that place, a
loud noise was heard at a distance, amidst which a voice was
distinguished calling aloud, "Hold a little, rash and thoughtless
people!" On turning their heads they saw that these words were uttered
by a man who was advancing towards them, clad in a black doublet, welted
with flaming crimson. He was crowned with a garland of mournful cypress,
and held in his hand a large truncheon; and, as he drew near, all
recognized the gallant Basilius, and waited in fearful expectation of
some disastrous result from this unseasonable visit.

At length he came up, tired and out of breath, and placed himself just
before the betrothed couple; then, pressing his staff, which was pointed
with steel, into the ground, he fixed his eyes on Quiteria, and in a
broken and tremulous voice thus addressed her: "Ah, false and forgetful
Quiteria, well thou knowest that, by the laws of our holy religion, thou
canst not marry another man whilst I am living; neither art thou
ignorant that, while waiting till time and mine own industry should
improve my fortune, I have never failed in the respect due to thy honor.
But thou hast cast aside every obligation due to my lawful love, and art
going to make another man master of what is mine: a man who is not only
enriched, but rendered eminently happy by his wealth; and, in obedience
to the will of Heaven, the only impediment to his supreme felicity I
will remove, by withdrawing this wretched being. Long live the rich
Camacho with the ungrateful Quiteria! Long and happily may they live,
and let poor Basilius die, who would have risen to good fortune had not
poverty clipped his wings and laid him in an early grave!"

So saying, he plucked his staff from the ground, and, drawing out a
short tuck, to which it had served as a scabbard, he fixed what might be
called the hilt into the ground, and, with a nimble spring and resolute
air, he threw himself on the p