Of the ominous accidents that crossed Don Quixote as he entered his village; with other transactions that illustrate and adorn this memorable history.

When they were entering the village, Don Quixote observed two little boys contesting together in an adjoining field; and one said to the other, "Never fret thy gizzard about it: for thou shalt never see her whilst thou hast breath in thy body." Don Quixote overhearing this, "Sancho," said he, "did you mind the boy's words, Thou shalt never see her while thou hast breath in thy body?" "Well," answered Sancho, "and what is the great business, though the boy did say so?" "How!" replied Don Quixote, "dost thou not perceive that, applying the words to my affairs, they plainly imply that I shall never see my Dulcinea?" Sancho was about to answer again, but was hindered by a full cry of hounds and horsemen pursuing a hare, which was put so hard to her shifts that she came and squatted down for shelter just at Dapple's feet. Immediately Sancho laid hold of her without difficulty, and presented her to Don Quixote; but he, with a dejected look, refusing the present, cried out aloud, "An ill omen—an ill omen; a hare runs away, hounds pursue her, and Dulcinea appears not!" "You are a strange man," quoth Sancho, "to regard such trumperies; nay, I have heard you yourself, my dear master, say that all such Christians as troubled their heads with these fortune-telling follies were neither better nor worse than downright numskulls; so let us even leave these things as we found them, and get home as fast as we can."

By this time the sportsmen were come up, and demanding their game, Don Quixote delivered them their hare. They passed on, and just at their coming into the town they perceived the curate and the bachelor Carrasco, repeating their breviary in a small field adjoining. The curate and the bachelor, presently knowing their old friends, ran to meet them with open arms; and while Don Quixote alighted and returned their embraces, the boys, who are ever so quick-sighted that nothing can escape their eyes, presently spying the ass, came running and flocking about them: "Oh!" cried they to one another, "look you here, boys; here is Gaffer Sancho Panza's ass as fine as a lady; and Don Quixote's beast leaner than ever!" With that, they ran whooping and hollowing about them through the town; while the two adventurers, attended by the curate and the bachelor, moved towards Don Quixote's house, where they were received at the door by his housekeeper and his niece, who had already got notice of their arrival. The news having also reached Teresa Panza, Sancho's wife, she came running half naked, with her hair about her ears, to see him; leading by the hand all the way her daughter Sanchica, who hardly wanted to be tugged along. But when she found that her husband looked a little short of the state of a governor, "Mercy on me!" quoth she, "what is the meaning of this, husband? You look as though you had come all the way on foot, and tired off your legs too! Why, you come liker a shark than a governor." "Mum, Teresa," quoth Sancho; "it is not all gold that glisters; and every man was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth. First let us go home, and then I will tell thee wonders. I have taken care of the main chance. Money I have, and I came honestly by it, without wronging any body." "Hast got money, old boy? Nay, then, it is well enough, no matter which way; let it come by hook or by crook, it is but what your betters have done before you." At the same time Sanchica, hugging her father, asked him what he had brought her home; for she had gaped for him as the flowers do for the dew in May. Thus Sancho, leading Dapple by the halter on one side, his wife taking him by the arm on the other, away they went together to his cottage, leaving Don Quixote at his own house, under the care of his niece and housekeeper, with the curate and bachelor to keep him company.

Don Quixote took the two last aside at once, and, without mincing the matter, gave them an account of his defeat, and the obligation he lay under of being confined to his village for a year, which, like a true knight-errant, he was resolved punctually to observe. He added, that he intended to pass that interval of time in the innocent functions of a pastoral life; and therefore he would immediately commence shepherd, and entertain himself solitarily in fields and woods; and begged, if business of greater importance were not an obstruction, that they would both please to be his companions, assuring them he would furnish them with such a number of sheep as might entitle them to such a profession. He also told them that he had already in a manner fitted them for the undertaking; for he had provided them all with names the most pastoral in the world.

They were struck with amazement at this new strain of folly; but considering it might be a means of keeping him at home, and hoping at the same time that, within the year, he might be cured of his knight-errantry, they came into his pastoral scheme, and, greatly applauding it, freely offered their company in the design. "We shall live the most pleasant life imaginable," said Samson Carrasco; "for, as every body knows, I am a most celebrated poet, and I will write pastorals in abundance. Sometimes, too, I may raise my strain, as occasion offers, to divert us as we range the groves and plains. But one thing, gentlemen, we must not forget: it is absolutely necessary that each of us choose a name for the shepherdess he means to celebrate in his lays; nor must we forget the ceremony used by the shepherds, of writing, carving, notching, or engraving on every tree the names of such shepherdesses, though the bark be ever so hard." "You are very much in the right," replied Don Quixote; "though, for my part, I need not be at the trouble of devising a name for any imaginary shepherdess, being already captivated by the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso—the nymph of these streams, the ornament of these meads, the primrose of beauty, the cream of gentleness, and, in short, the proper subject of all the praises that hyperbolical eloquence can bestow." "We grant all this," said the curate; "but we, who cannot pretend to such perfections, must make it our business to find out some shepherdesses of a lower stamp, and be content." "We shall find enough, I will warrant you," replied Carrasco; "and though we meet with none, yet will we give those very names we find in books—such as Phyllis, Amaryllis, Chloe, Diana, Florinda, Chloris, Galatea, and a thousand more, which are to be disposed of publicly in the open market; and when we have purchased them, they are our own. Besides, if my shepherdess be called Anne, I will name her in my verses Anarda; if Frances, I will call her Francenia; and if Lucy be her name, then Lucinda shall be my shepherdess; and so forth. And, if Sancho Panza will make one of our fraternity, he may celebrate his wife Teresa by the name of Teresania." Don Quixote could not forbear smiling at the turn given to that name. The curate again applauded his laudable resolution, and repeated his offer of bearing him company all the time that his other employment would allow him; and then they took their leave, giving him all the good advice that they thought might conduce to his health and welfare.

No sooner were the curate and the bachelor gone, than the housekeeper and niece, who, according to custom, had been listening to all their discourse, came both upon Don Quixote. "Bless me, uncle," cried the niece, "what is here to do! What new maggot is got into your head! When we thought you were come to stay at home, and live like a sober, honest gentleman in your own house, are you hankering after new inventions, and running a wool-gathering after sheep, forsooth? By my troth, sir, you are somewhat of the latest. The corn is too old to make oaten pipes of." "Ah! sir," quoth the housekeeper, "how will your worship be able to endure the summer's sun and the winter's frost in the open fields? And then the howlings of the wolves, Heaven bless us! Pray, good sir, do not think of it; it is a business fit for nobody but those that are bred and born to it, and as strong as horses. Let the worst come to the worst, better be a knight-errant still than a keeper of sheep. Be ruled by me; stay at home, look after your concerns, go often to confession, do good to the poor; and, if aught goes ill with you, let it lie at my door." "Good girls," said Don Quixote, "hold your prating: I know best what I have to do. Do not trouble your heads; whether I be a knight-errant or an errant-shepherd, you shall always find that I will provide for you."

The niece and maid, who, without doubt, were good-natured creatures, made no answer, but brought him something to eat, and tended him with all imaginable care.