Dorothea was at a loss to know what had happened to the child. All the while she was trying to soothe her, the tears were streaming down the young girl's face, and she was trembling like a leaf. Finally she quieted her feelings sufficiently to be able to confide to Dorothea in a whispering voice the story of her romance with the singer, who, she said, was not a muleteer as his garb would indicate, but the only son and heir of a rich noble of Aragon. This gentleman's house in Madrid was situated directly opposite her father's, and having once seen Doña Clara the youth proceeded to declare his love for her. She, being motherless and having no one to whom she could confide her love secrets, had to leave Madrid with her father, when he was given his appointment to New Spain, without an opportunity to see her lover. But as soon as the youth, who was not much older than herself, learned of their departure, he dressed himself up as a muleteer and set out on foot to pursue her. At every inn where they had stopped overnight she had found him awaiting their departure in the morning, and she was always in dread, she said, lest her father learn of their love for each other.
With her arms tight around Dorothea, she confessed to her how great her love was for the youth, saying that she could never live without him. Dorothea kissed the girl, and promised her that with God's help all would end well, telling her to put her trust in Him; and before another day had passed she hoped to have good news for Doña Clara. Dorothea's assurances calmed and put new faith in the young girl's heart; and soon they all were fast asleep again.
Now, all this time the one-eyed Asturian maid, and the landlady's daughter, both bent on deviltry, were keeping their eyes open. It was impossible for them to forget Don Quixote, and they were determined to play a joke on him before the night was over. They posted themselves in the hayloft, where there was a hole in the wall; and when Don Quixote passed on Rocinante, he heard some one calling: "Pst! Come here, señor!"
As Don Quixote turned to see who it might be, he discovered the hole in the wall and it seemed very much like a marvelously decorated window, in keeping with the beautiful castle he had made out of the inn. He beheld at this window the two maidens, and immediately they became to him the daughter of the lord of the castle and her attendant. Wistfully he gazed at them, certain, however, that they had designed to destroy his faithful and stubborn allegiance to Dulcinea, to whom he had just been sending up prayers and salutations under the influence of the moon. Then he spoke to them, regretting that they should let themselves be so overcome by love for him that they could no longer master their feelings. He told them of that great and only mistress of his soul, the incomparable one of El Toboso of La Mancha, to whom he had sworn eternal love and undying admiration. And at last he admonished the innkeeper's daughter to retire to her beauteous apartment, lest he should be forced to prove himself ungrateful. If, he said, she would demand any other thing than love, he would willingly grant her the favor, even unto a lock of Medusa's hair.