marry the daughter of
Pentapolin,' replied Don Quixote, 'but her father will not give her to
him till he ceases to be an unbeliever.'

'By my beard,' cried Sancho, 'if I see this Pentapolin driven back I
will strike a blow for him with all my might.'

'And you will do well,' replied Don Quixote, 'for in such battles it is
not necessary to be a knight.'

'But what shall I do with my ass?' inquired the squire anxiously, 'for I
suppose that until this day no man has ever yet ridden into combat on an
ass.'

'Let him loose,' said Don Quixote, 'and think no more of him, for after
we have vanquished our enemies we shall have such choice of horses that
I may light upon one even better than Rozinante! But let us stand on
yonder little hill, for I would fain describe to you the names and arms
of the noble knights that are approaching.'

For a long while he spoke, telling his squire of the countries from
which those leaders of the armies had come. And truly it was wonderful
to listen to him, seeing that they were all children of his own brain.
From time to time Sancho Panza stared hard at the dust, trying to see as
much as his master, and at last he cried:

'If there is a knight or a giant there, they must be enchanted like the
rest; for, look as I may, I cannot see them.'

'How can you speak such words?' answered Don Quixote reproachfully. 'Do
you not hear the horses neighing, the drums beating, the trumpets
sounding?'

'No, I hear nothing of all that,' replied Sancho stoutly; 'all _I_ hear
is the bleating of sheep and of ewes.' And as he spoke the dust was
lifted by the wind, and he saw the two flocks in front of them.

'It is the deadly fear which has overtaken you,' answered Don Quixote,
'which has clouded your eyes and ears, and made everything seem
different from what it is. If you are afraid, stand aside then, for my
arm alone carries victory with it'; and, so saying, he touched Rozinante
with his spurs, and with his lance in rest galloped down the hill,
unheeding the cries of Sancho, who shrieked out that it was only a flock
of sheep that he saw, and that there were neither giants nor knights to
fight with.

He might have spared his voice, for Don Quixote, if he heard him, which
is doubtful, rode on without turning his head, shouting defiance at the
Moslem leader, and spearing the sheep which could not get out of his
way, as if they were indeed the soldiers he took them for.

When the shepherds had recovered