ve;
a knight-errant in life, a steadfast saint in death, an untiring labourer
in the Lord's vineyard, a teacher of the Gentiles, whose school was
heaven, and whose instructor and master was Jesus Christ himself."

There were no more images, so Don Quixote bade them cover them up again,
and said to those who had brought them, "I take it as a happy omen,
brothers, to have seen what I have; for these saints and knights were of
the same profession as myself, which is the calling of arms; only there
is this difference between them and me, that they were saints, and fought
with divine weapons, and I am a sinner and fight with human ones. They
won heaven by force of arms, for heaven suffereth violence; and I, so
far, know not what I have won by dint of my sufferings; but if my
Dulcinea del Toboso were to be released from hers, perhaps with mended
fortunes and a mind restored to itself I might direct my steps in a
better path than I am following at present."

"May God hear and sin be deaf," said Sancho to this.

The men were filled with wonder, as well at the figure as at the words of
Don Quixote, though they did not understand one half of what he meant by
them. They finished their dinner, took their images on their backs, and
bidding farewell to Don Quixote resumed their journey.

Sancho was amazed afresh at the extent of his master's knowledge, as much
as if he had never known him, for it seemed to him that there was no
story or event in the world that he had not at his fingers' ends and
fixed in his memory, and he said to him, "In truth, master mine, if this
that has happened to us to-day is to be called an adventure, it has been
one of the sweetest and pleasantest that have befallen us in the whole
course of our travels; we have come out of it unbelaboured and
undismayed, neither have we drawn sword nor have we smitten the earth
with our bodies, nor have we been left famishing; blessed be God that he
has let me see such a thing with my own eyes!"

"Thou sayest well, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "but remember all times are
not alike nor do they always run the same way; and these things the
vulgar commonly call omens, which are not based upon any natural reason,
will by him who is wise be esteemed and reckoned happy accidents merely.
One of these believers in omens will get up of a morning, leave his
house, and meet a friar of the order of the blessed Saint Francis, and,
as if he had met a griffin, he will turn about and go