Exceedingly moody and dejected was the sorely wounded Don Quixote, with
his face bandaged and marked, not by the hand of God, but by the claws of
a cat, mishaps incidental to knight-errantry.

Six days he remained without appearing in public, and one night as he lay
awake thinking of his misfortunes and of Altisidora's pursuit of him, he
perceived that some one was opening the door of his room with a key, and
he at once made up his mind that the enamoured damsel was coming to make
an assault upon his chastity and put him in danger of failing in the
fidelity he owed to his lady Dulcinea del Toboso. "No," said he, firmly
persuaded of the truth of his idea (and he said it loud enough to be
heard), "the greatest beauty upon earth shall not avail to make me
renounce my adoration of her whom I bear stamped and graved in the core
of my heart and the secret depths of my bowels; be thou, lady mine,
transformed into a clumsy country wench, or into a nymph of golden Tagus
weaving a web of silk and gold, let Merlin or Montesinos hold thee
captive where they will; whereer thou art, thou art mine, and where'er I
am, must be thine." The very instant he had uttered these words, the door
opened. He stood up on the bed wrapped from head to foot in a yellow
satin coverlet, with a cap on his head, and his face and his moustaches
tied up, his face because of the scratches, and his moustaches to keep
them from drooping and falling down, in which trim he looked the most
extraordinary scarecrow that could be conceived. He kept his eyes fixed
on the door, and just as he was expecting to see the love-smitten and
unhappy Altisidora make her appearance, he saw coming in a most venerable
duenna, in a long white-bordered veil that covered and enveloped her from
head to foot. Between the fingers of her left hand she held a short
lighted candle, while with her right she shaded it to keep the light from