Of the dreadful battle betwixt Don Quixote and certain Wine-skins. The conversation was hardly concluded when Sancho Panza came running out of Don Quixote's chamber in a terrible fright, crying out, "Help, help, good people! help my master! He is just now at it tooth and nail with that same giant, the Princess Micomicona's foe; I never saw a more dreadful battle in my born days. He has lent him such a blow, that whip off went the giant's head, as round as a turnip." "You are mad, Sancho," said the curate, starting up astonished; "is thy master such a wonderful hero as to fight a giant at two thousand leagues distance?" Upon this they presently heard a noise and bustle in the chamber, and Don Quixote bawling out, "Stay, villain! robber, stay! since I have thee here, thy scimitar shall but little avail thee!" and with this they heard him strike with his sword with all his force against the walls. "Good folks," said Sancho, "my master does not want your hearkening; why do not you run in and help him? though I believe it is after-meat mustard; for sure the giant is dead by this time, and giving an account of his ill life; for I saw his blood run all about the house, and his head sailing in the middle on it; but such a head! it is bigger than any wine-skin in Spain."[8] "Mercy on me!" cried the innkeeper, "I will be cut like a cucumber, if this Don Quixote, or Don Devil, has not been hacking my wine-skins that stood filled at his bed's head, and this coxcomb has taken the spilt liquor for blood." Then running with the whole company into the room, they found the poor knight in the most comical posture imaginable.

He wore on his head a little red greasy nightcap of the innkeeper's; he had wrapped one of the best blankets about his left arm for a shield; and wielded his drawn-sword in the right, laying about him pell-mell; with now and then a start of some military expression, as if he had been really engaged with some giant. But the best jest of all, he was all this time fast asleep; for the thoughts of the adventure he had undertaken had so wrought on his imagination that his depraved fancy had in his sleep represented to him the kingdom of Micomicon and the giant; and dreaming that he was then fighting him, he assaulted the wine-skins so desperately that he set the whole chamber afloat with good wine. The innkeeper, enraged to see the havoc, flew at Don Quixote with his fists; and had not Cardenio and the curate taken him off, he had proved a giant indeed against the knight. All this could not wake the poor Don, till the barber, throwing a bucket of cold water on him, wakened him from his sleep, though not from his dream.

Sancho ran up and down the room searching for the giant's head, till, finding his labour fruitless, "Well, well," said he, "now I see plainly that this house is haunted; for when I was here before, in this very room was I beaten like any stock-fish, but knew no more than the man in the moon who struck me; and now the giant's head that I saw cut off with these eyes is vanished; and I am sure I saw the body spout blood like a pump." "What prating and nonsense!" said the innkeeper; "I tell you, rascal, it is my wine-skins that are slashed, and my wine that runs about the floor here." "Well, well," said Sancho, "do not trouble me; I only tell you that I cannot find the giant's head, and my earldom is gone after it; and so I am undone, like salt in water." And truly Sancho's waking dream was as pleasant as his master's when asleep. The innkeeper was almost mad to see the foolish squire harp so on the same string with his frantic master, and swore they should not come off now as before; that their chivalry should be no satisfaction for his wine, but that they should pay him sauce for the damage, and for the very leathern patches which the wounded wine-skins would want.

Don Quixote in the mean while, believing he had finished his adventure, and mistaking the curate, that held him by the arms, for the Princess Micomicona, fell on his knees before him, and with a respect due to a royal presence, "Now may your highness," said he, "great and illustrious princess, live secure, free from any further apprehensions from your conquered enemy; and now I am acquitted of my engagement, since, by the assistance of Heaven, and the influence of her favour by whom I live and conquer, your adventure is so happily achieved." "Did not I tell you so, gentlefolks?" said Sancho; "who is drunk or mad now? See if my master has not already put the giant in pickle? I am an earl as sure as possible." The whole company (except the unfortunate innkeeper) were highly diverted at the extravagances of both. At last, the barber, Cardenio, and the curate, having with much ado got Don Quixote to bed, he presently fell asleep, being heartily tired; and then they left him to comfort Sancho Panza for the loss of the giant's head; but it was no easy matter to appease the innkeeper, who was at his wit's end for the unexpected and sudden fate of his wine-skins.

The hostess in the mean time ran up and down the house crying and roaring: "In an ill hour," said she, "did this unlucky knight-errant come into my house; I wish, for my part, I had never seen him, for he has been a dear guest to me. He and his man, his horse and his ass went away last time without paying me a cross for their supper, their bed, their litter and provender; and all, forsooth, because he was seeking adventures. What, in the wide world, have we to do with his statutes of chivalry? If they oblige him not to pay, they should oblige him not to eat neither. It was upon this score that the other fellow took away my good tail; it is clean spoiled, the hair is all torn off, and my husband can never use it again. And now to come upon me again with destroying my wine-skins, and spilling my liquor. But I will be paid, so I will, to the last maravedis, or I will disown my name, and forswear my mother." Her honest maid Maritornes seconded her fury; but Master Curate stopped their mouths by promising that he would see them satisfied for their wine and their skins, but especially for the tail which they made such a clatter about. Dorothea comforted Sancho, assuring him that whenever it appeared that his master had killed the giant, and restored her to her dominions, he should be sure of the best earldom in her disposal. With this he buckled up again, and vowed "that he himself had seen the giant's head, by the same token that it had a beard that reached down to his middle; and if it could not be found, it must be hid by witchcraft, for every thing went by enchantment in that house, as he had found to his cost when he was there before." Dorothea answered that she believed him; and desired him to pluck up his spirits, for all things would be well.