difficulty presented itself, for it seemed to him impossible to relieve
himself without making some noise, and he ground his teeth and squeezed
his shoulders together, holding his breath as much as he could; but in
spite of his precautions he was unlucky enough after all to make a little
noise, very different from that which was causing him so much fear.

Don Quixote, hearing it, said, "What noise is that, Sancho?"

"I don't know, senor," said he; "it must be something new, for adventures
and misadventures never begin with a trifle." Once more he tried his
luck, and succeeded so well, that without any further noise or
disturbance he found himself relieved of the burden that had given him so
much discomfort. But as Don Quixote's sense of smell was as acute as his
hearing, and as Sancho was so closely linked with him that the fumes rose
almost in a straight line, it could not be but that some should reach his
nose, and as soon as they did he came to its relief by compressing it
between his fingers, saying in a rather snuffing tone, "Sancho, it
strikes me thou art in great fear."

"I am," answered Sancho; "but how does your worship perceive it now more
than ever?"

"Because just now thou smellest stronger than ever, and not of
ambergris," answered Don Quixote.

"Very likely," said Sancho, "but that's not my fault, but your worship's,
for leading me about at unseasonable hours and at such unwonted paces."

"Then go back three or four, my friend," said Don Quixote, all the time
with his fingers to his nose; "and for the future pay more attention to