other houses they cook beans, but in mine it's by the potful;
madness will have more followers and hangers-on than sound sense; but if
there be any truth in the common saying, that to have companions in
trouble gives some relief, I may take consolation from you, inasmuch as
you serve a master as crazy as my own."

"Crazy but valiant," replied he of the Grove, "and more roguish than
crazy or valiant."

"Mine is not that," said Sancho; "I mean he has nothing of the rogue in
him; on the contrary, he has the soul of a pitcher; he has no thought of
doing harm to anyone, only good to all, nor has he any malice whatever in
him; a child might persuade him that it is night at noonday; and for this
simplicity I love him as the core of my heart, and I can't bring myself
to leave him, let him do ever such foolish things."

"For all that, brother and senor," said he of the Grove, "if the blind
lead the blind, both are in danger of falling into the pit. It is better
for us to beat a quiet retreat and get back to our own quarters; for
those who seek adventures don't always find good ones."

Sancho kept spitting from time to time, and his spittle seemed somewhat
ropy and dry, observing which the compassionate squire of the Grove said,
"It seems to me that with all this talk of ours our tongues are sticking
to the roofs of our mouths; but I have a pretty good loosener hanging
from the saddle-bow of my horse," and getting up he came back the next
minute with a large bota of wine and a pasty half a yard across; and this
is no exaggeration, for it was made of a house rabbit so big that Sancho,
as he handled it, took it to be made of a goat, not to say a kid, and
looking at it he said, "And do you carry this with you, senor?"

"Why, what are you thinking about?" said the other; "do you take me for
some paltry squire? I carry a better larder on my horse's croup than a
general takes with him when he goes on a march."

Sancho ate without requiring to be pressed, and in the dark bolted
mouthfuls like the knots on a tether, and said he, "You are a proper
trusty squire, one of the right sort, sumptuous and grand, as this
banquet shows, which, if it has not come here by magic art, at any rate
has the look of it; not like me, unlucky beggar, that have nothing more
in my alforjas than a scrap of cheese, so hard that one might brain a
giant with it, and, to keep it company, a few dozen carobs and as many
more filberts and walnuts; thanks to the