o was rather fond of a joke and was very
sharp-witted, said to him:--"Sir Knight, we do not know who this good
lady is that you speak of; show her to us, for if she be of such
beauty as you suggest, with all our hearts and without any pressure we
will confess the truth that is on your part required of us."

"If I were to show her to you," replied Don Quixote, "what merit would
you have in confessing a truth so manifest? The essential point is
that without seeing her you must believe, confess, affirm, swear, and
defend it; else ye have to do with me in battle, ill-conditioned
arrogant rabble that ye are: and come ye on, one by one as the order
of knighthood requires, or all together as is the custom and vile
usage of your breed; here do I bide and await you, relying on the
justice of the cause I maintain."

"Sir Knight," replied the trader, "I entreat your Worship in the name
of this present company of princes, that to save us from charging our
consciences with the confession of a thing we have never seen or heard
of, and one moreover so much to the prejudice of the Empresses and
Queens of the Alcarria and Estremadura, your worship will be pleased
to show us some portrait of this lady, though it be no bigger than a
grain of wheat; for by the thread one gets at the ball, and in this
way we shall be satisfied and easy, and you will be content and
pleased: nay, I believe we are already so far agreed with you that
even though her portrait should show her blind of one eye, and
distilling vermilion and sulphur from the other, we would
nevertheless, to gratify your Worship, say all in her favor that you
desire."

"She distills nothing of the kind, vile rabble," said Don Quixote,
burning with rage; "nothing of the kind, I say; only ambergris and
civet in cotton; nor is she one-eyed or hump-backed, but straighter
than a Guadarrama spindle: but ye must pay for the blasphemy ye have
uttered against beauty like that of my lady."

And so saying he charged with leveled lance against the one who had
spoken, with such fury and fierceness that, if luck had not contrived
that Rosinante should stumble midway and come down, it would have gone
hard with the rash trader. Down went Rosinante, and over went his
master, rolling along the ground for some distance; and when he tried
to rise he was unable, so incumbered was he with lance, buckler,
spurs, helmet, and the weight of his old armor; and all the while he
was struggling to get up, he