"Help me to bed," he said, "for I think that I am not very well."

He was put to bed, and carefully nursed. But a fever had taken hold of
him, and for many days Sancho Panza never left his master's bedside.
On the sixth day, the doctor told him he was in great danger. Don
Quixote listened very calmly, and then asked that he might be left by
himself for a little--he had a mind to sleep. His niece and Sancho
left the room weeping bitterly, and Don Quixote fell into a deep
sleep.

When he awoke, with a firm voice he cried:

"Blessed be God! My mind is is now clear, and the clouds have rolled
away which those detestable books of knight-errantry cast over me. Now
can I see their nonsense and deceit. I am at the point of death, and I
would meet it so that I may not leave behind me the character of a
madman. Send for the lawyer, that I may make my will."

Excepting only a small sum of money which he gave to Sancho Panza, he
left all to his niece.

Thereafter he fell back in bed, and lay unconscious and without
movement till the third day, when death very gently took him.

So died Don Quixote de la Mancha, a good man and a brave gentleman to
the end.