One of the lackeys with the company, hearing these saucy speeches of the poor overthrown Knight, could not forbear returning him an answer on his ribs, and coming up to him he seized his lance, and having broken it into pieces, began with one of them to belabour him, so that in spite of his armour he pounded him like wheat in a mill. His masters called out to him to let the gentleman be, but the lackey was angry and would not give up the game. And running for the other pieces of the broken lance, he shivered them all over the poor fallen Knight, who never closed his mouth, but cried out against them for brigands and murderers, for such he took them to be.
At last the lackey was tired out, and the merchants followed on their way talking about the poor belaboured Knight, who when he saw himself alone, again made trial to arise; but if he could not do so when sound and well, how could he after being pounded and almost beaten to a jelly? And yet he still considered himself fortunate, for he persuaded himself that this disgrace was one of those things that must of occasion happen to a Knight Errant. And though he could not rise on account of being mauled and bruised from head to foot, he put it all down to the carelessness of his steed Rozinante.
[Illustration: THE DESTRUCTION OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY]
How Don Quixote returned home, and what happened to his Library, and how he sallied forth a second time to seek Adventures
Finding that he was unable to stir, the Knight pleased himself whilst lying on the ground by remembering and repeating aloud passages from his favourite books.
He was reciting the ballad of the Marquess of Mantua, in which a noble knight has an adventure similar to his own, when there chanced to pass by a labouring man, a neighbour of Don Quixote's, who was going to take a load of wheat to the mill.
He, seeing a man stretched on the ground, came over to him and asked who he was and what mishap had befallen him.
Don Quixote at once believed that the labourer was no other than the Marquess of Mantua himself, and went on with his ballad which gave an account of his disgrace.
The labourer was astonished at all these follies, and taking off the Knight's visor, which was all broken to pieces with the beating, he wiped his face, which was covered with dust; and when he had wiped it he recognised him and cried: 'Senor Quixada (for so was he named before he became a Knight Errant), who has brought your Worship to this plight?'