ree. The
instant Don Quixote saw them he exclaimed:--"Good news for you, good
sirs, that I am no longer Don Quixote of La Mancha, but Alonso
Quixano, whose way of life won for him the name of Good. Now am I the
enemy of Amadis of Gaul and of the whole countless troop of his
descendants; odious to me now are all the profane stories of
knight-errantry; now I perceive my folly, and the peril into which
reading them brought me; now, by God's mercy schooled into my right
senses, I loathe them."

When the three heard him speak in this way, they had no doubt whatever
that some new craze had taken possession of him; and said Samson,
"What! Senor Don Quixote! Now that we have intelligence of the lady
Dulcinea being disenchanted, are you taking this line? now, just as we
are on the point of becoming shepherds, to pass our lives singing,
like princes, are you thinking of turning hermit? Hush, for heaven's
sake; be rational, and let's have no more nonsense."

"All that nonsense," said Don Quixote, "that until now has been a
reality to my hurt, my death will with heaven's help turn to my good.
I feel, sirs, that I am rapidly drawing near death: a truce to
jesting; let me have a confessor to confess me, and a notary to make
my will; for in extremities like this, man must not trifle with his
soul; and while the curate is confessing me, let some one, I beg, go
for the notary."

They looked at one another, wondering at Don Quixote's words; but
though uncertain they were inclined to believe him, and one of the
signs by which they came to the conclusion he was dying, was this so
sudden and complete return to his senses after having been mad; for to
the words already quoted he added much more, so well expressed, so
devout, and so rational, as to banish all doubt and convince them that
he was sound of mind. The curate turned them all out, and left alone
with him, confessed him. The bachelor went for the notary, and
returned shortly afterwards with him and with Sancho, who, having
already learned from the bachelor the condition his master was in, and
finding the housekeeper and niece weeping, began to blubber and shed
tears.

The confession over, the curate came out saying:--"Alonso Quixano the
Good is indeed dying, and is indeed in his right mind; we may now go
in to him, while he makes his will."

This news gave a tremendous impulse to the brimming eyes of the
housekeeper, niece, and Sancho Panza his good squire, making the tears
b