gentlemen bearing thee company! Get thee home, blockhead, and see after
thy affairs, and thy wife and children, and give over these fooleries
that are sapping thy brains and skimming away thy wits."

"Go your own way, brother," said Don Antonio, "and don't offer advice to
those who don't ask you for it. Senor Don Quixote is in his full senses,
and we who bear him company are not fools; virtue is to be honoured
wherever it may be found; go, and bad luck to you, and don't meddle where
you are not wanted."

"By God, your worship is right," replied the Castilian; "for to advise
this good man is to kick against the pricks; still for all that it fills
me with pity that the sound wit they say the blockhead has in everything
should dribble away by the channel of his knight-errantry; but may the
bad luck your worship talks of follow me and all my descendants, if, from
this day forth, though I should live longer than Methuselah, I ever give
advice to anybody even if he asks me for it."

The advice-giver took himself off, and they continued their stroll; but
so great was the press of the boys and people to read the placard, that
Don Antonio was forced to remove it as if he were taking off something
else.

Night came and they went home, and there was a ladies' dancing party, for
Don Antonio's wife, a lady of rank and gaiety, beauty and wit, had
invited some friends of hers to come and do honour to her guest and amuse
themselves with his strange delusions. Several of them came, they supped
sumptuously, the dance began at about ten o'clock. Among the ladies were
two of a mischievous and frolicsome turn, and, though perfectly modest,
somewhat free in playing tricks for harmless diversion sake. These two