What happened to Don Quixote with Donna Rodriguez; as also other passages worthy to be recorded. Don Quixote, thus unhappily hurt, was extremely discontented and melancholy. He was some days without appearing in public; and one night, when he was thus confined to his apartment, as he lay awake reflecting on his misfortunes and Altisidora's importunities, he perceived somebody was opening his chamber-door with a key, and presently imagined that the damsel herself was coming. "No," said he, loud enough to be heard, "the greatest beauty in the universe shall never remove the dear idea of the charming fair that is engraved and stamped in the very centre of my heart, and the most secret recesses of my breast. No, thou only mistress of my soul, whether transformed into a country girl, or into one of the nymphs of the golden Tagus, that weave silk and gold in the loom; whether Merlin or Montesinos detained thee where they pleased, be where thou wilt, thou still art mine; and wherever I shall be, I must and will be thine." Just as he ended his speech, the door opened. He fixed his eyes on it, and when he expected to have seen the doleful Altisidora, he beheld a most reverend matron approaching in a white veil, so long that it covered her from head to foot. Betwixt her left-hand fingers she carried half a candle lighted, and held her right before her face to keep the blaze of the taper from her eyes, which were hidden by a huge pair of spectacles. All the way she trod very softly, and moved at a very slow pace. Don Quixote watched her motions, and observing her garb and silence, took her for some enchantress that came in that dress to practise her wicked sorceries upon him, and began to make the sign of the cross as fast as he could. The vision advanced all the while; and being got to the middle of the chamber, lifted up its eyes and saw Don Quixote thus making a thousand crosses on his breast. But if he was astonished at the sight of such a figure, she was no less affrighted at his; so that, as soon as she spied him, so lank, bepatched and muffled up, "Bless me," cried she, "what is this!" With the sudden fright she dropped the candle, and now, being in the dark, as she was running out, the length of her dress made her stumble, and down she fell in the middle of the chamber. Don Quixote at the same time was in great anxiety. "Phantom," cried he, "or whatsoever thou art, I conjure thee to tell me who thou art, and what thou requirest of me?" The old woman, hearing herself thus conjured, judged Don Quixote's fears by her own, and therefore, with a low and doleful voice, "My Lord Don Quixote," said she, "if you are he, I am neither a phantom nor a ghost, but Donna Rodriguez, my lady duchess's matron of honour, who come to you about a certain grievance of the nature of those which you use to redress." "Tell me, Donna Rodriguez," said Don Quixote, "are not you come to manage some love intrigue? If you are, take it from me, you will lose your labour: it is all in vain, thanks to the peerless beauty of my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. In a word, madam, provided you come not on some such embassy, you may go light your candle and return, and we will talk of any thing you please." "I have come with no such purpose," said the duenna. "But stay a little, I will go light my candle, and then I will tell you my misfortunes; for it is you that sets to right every thing in the world." This said, away she went, without stopping for an answer.

Donna Rodriguez, having returned, sat down in a chair at some distance, without taking off her spectacles, or setting down the candle. After they had both remained some minutes in silence, the first that broke it was the knight. "Now, madam," said he, "you may freely unburden your heart, sure of attention to your complaints and assistance in your distress." "I believe as much," said the matron, "and promised myself no less charitable an answer from a person of so graceful and pleasing a presence. The case, then, is, noble sir, that though you see me sitting in this chair, in the middle of Arragon, in the habit of an insignificant unhappy duenna, I am of Asturias de Oviedo, and one of the best families in that province. But my hard fortune, and the neglect of my parents, brought me to Madrid, where, because they could do no better, they placed me with a court lady to be her chambermaid. And, though I say it, for all manner of plain work I was never outdone by any one in all my life. My father and mother left me at service, and returned home; and some few years after they both died, and went to heaven, I hope; for they were very good and religious Catholics. Then was I left an orphan, and wholly reduced to the sorrowful condition of such court-servants, wretched wages, and a slender allowance. About the same time the gentleman-usher fell in love with me before I dreamt of any such thing. He was somewhat stricken in years, had a fine beard, was a personable man, and, what is more, as good a gentleman as the king; for he was of the mountains. We did not carry matters so close but it came to my lady's ear; and so, without more ado, she caused us to be married in the face of our holy mother the Catholic church, from which marriage sprung a daughter, who made an end of my good fortune, if I had any. When she came to be sixteen years of age, who should happen to fall in love with her but a rich farmer's son, that lives in one of my lord duke's villages not far off; he courted her, gained her consent, and was under promise of marriage to her; but he now refuses to make his word good. The duke is no stranger to the business, for I have made complaint to him about it many and many times, and begged of him to enjoin the young man to wed my daughter; but he turns his deaf ear to me, and cannot endure I should speak to him of it, because the young knave's father is rich, and lends the duke money, and is bound for him upon all occasions, so that he would by no means disoblige him.

"Therefore, sir, I apply myself to your worship, and beseech you to see my daughter righted, either by entreaties or by force, seeing every body says you were sent into the world to redress grievances and assist those in adversity. Be pleased to cast an eye of pity on my daughter's orphan state, her beauty, her youth, and all her other good parts; for, on my conscience, of all the damsels my lady has, there is not one can come up to her by a mile; no, not she that is cried up as the finest of them all, whom they call Altisidora: I am sure she is not to be named the same day; for, let me tell you, sir, all is not gold that glisters. This same Altisidora, after all, is a hoity-toity, that has more vanity than beauty, and less modesty than confidence."

Scarce had this passed, when the chamber-door flew open, which so startled Donna Rodriguez, that she let fall her candle, and the room remained as dark as a wolf's mouth, as the saying is; and presently the poor duenna felt somebody hold her by the throat, and squeeze it so hard, that it was not in her power to cry out; and another beat her so unmercifully that it would have moved any one but those that did it to pity. Don Quixote was not without compassion, yet he lay silent, not knowing what the meaning of this bustle might be, and fearing lest the tempest that poured on the poor matron might also light upon himself; and not without reason; for indeed, after the mute executioners had well beat the old gentlewoman (who durst not cry out), they came to Don Quixote, and pinched him so hard and so long, that in his own defence he could not forbear laying about him with his fists as well as he could, till at last, after the scuffle had lasted about half an hour, the invisible phantoms vanished. Donna Rodriguez, lamenting her hard fortune, left the room without speaking a word to the knight. As for him, he remained where he was, sadly pinched and tired, and very moody and thoughtful, not knowing who this wicked enchanter could be that had used him in that manner. But now let us leave him, and return to Sancho Panza, who calls upon us, as the order of our history requires.