e landlord was something of a wag, and well aware that his guest was
mad. He therefore decided to fall in with his wishes for the sport of
the thing; so he told Don Quixote that he would make him a knight and
gladly, that he too had been a knight errant in his time and wandered
all over Spain seeking adventures, where he had proved the lightness
of his feet in running away and the quickness of his fingers in
picking pockets, until he had swindled and cheated so many people
that he had been forced to retire to this castle of his. Here he lived
on his property--and that of other persons--and he accepted money from
wandering knights errant in return for the kindness and services he
rendered them. And when Don Quixote told him that he never carried
money with him in his travels, the landlord assured him he was making
the greatest mistake in the world and that he must not suppose that,
just because money and clean shirts were not mentioned in the books of
chivalry of the time, the knights did without them; that was not the
case at all.

At last it was decided that the landlord should dub Don Quixote a
knight on the following morning, and that the night should be spent by
Don Quixote in watching over his armor in prayer and fasting, as was
the custom with knights before they received the title of full
knighthood and could go abroad on their adventures with a strong arm
and untroubled spirit.

It had been arranged between the landlord and Don Quixote that the
watch over the armor should take place in the courtyard of the inn.
Don Quixote placed his corselet and helmet by the side of a well from
which the carriers drew water, and, grasping his lance, commenced to
march up and down before it like a sentinel on duty; and as the hours
wore by and the march continued, the landlord called other persons to
watch the performance, explaining that the man was mad, and telling of
the ceremony that was to take place in the morning. The passers-by,
viewing the steadiness with which Don Quixote paced to and fro in the
moonlight and the resolute way in which he handled his lance, were
struck with wonder both at the peculiarity of the sight and the
strange form that Don Quixote's madness had taken.

At last, however, it became necessary for one of the carriers to draw
water from the well. He did not observe the madman and he paid no
attention to the armor until he stumbled across it, when he picked it
up and flung it from him, whereupon Do