our business. We're in a hurry."

"Rise, Sancho," said Don Quixote when he heard the girl's voice. "I am
now convinced that misfortune has not yet finished with me. O most
beautiful lady! a spiteful enchanter puts mists before my eyes, and
hides from me your loveliness."

"My grandmother take him!" cried the girl. "Listen to his gibberish!
Get out of the way, and let us alone." And kicking her donkey in the
ribs, she galloped away with her friends. Don Quixote followed them
long with his eyes.

"O the spite of those wicked enchanters!" he sighed, "to turn my
beautiful Dulcinea into so vile a shape as that: to take from her the
sweet and delicate scent of fragrant flowers, and give to her what she
has. For, to tell the truth, Sancho, she gave me such a whiff of raw
onions that it was like to upset me altogether."

"O the vile and evil-minded enchanters!" cried Sancho. "Oh that I
might see the lot of you threaded on one string, and hung up in the
smoke like so many herrings." And Sancho turned away to hide his
laughter.

Don Quixote rode on, very sad, and letting "Rozinante" go where he
pleased.




VI