the rattling of the drums, the loud sound of the trumpets, and other instruments of war, made such a hideous and dreadful concert in the air, that the duke was amazed, the duchess astonished, Don Quixote was surprised, and Sancho shook like a leaf; and even those that knew the occasion of all this, were affrighted.

This consternation caused a general silence; and, by and by, one riding post, equipped like a devil, passed by the company, winding a huge hollow horn, that made a horrible hoarse noise. "Hark you post," said the duke, "whither so fast? what are you? and what parties of soldiers are those that march across the wood?" "I am the devil," cried the post in a horrible tone, "and go in quest of Don Quixote de la Mancha; and those that are coming this way are six bands of necromancers, that conduct the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, enchanted in a triumphant chariot. She is attended by that gallant French knight, Montesinos, who comes to give information how she may be freed from enchantment." "Wert thou as much a devil," said the duke, "as thy horrid shape speaks thee to be, thou wouldst have known this knight here before thee to be that Don Quixote de la Mancha whom thou seekest." "Before heaven, and on my conscience," replied the devil, "I never thought on it; for I have so many things in my head, that it almost distracts me; I had quite and clean forgotten my errand." "Surely," quoth Sancho, "this devil must be a very honest fellow, and a good Christian; for he swears as devoutly by heaven and his conscience as I should do; and now I am apt to believe there

be some good people even in hell." At the same time, the devil, directing himself to Don Quixote, without dismounting: "To thee, O Knight of the Lions,” cried he, (and I wish thee fast in their claws,) "to thee am I sent by the valiant but unfortunate Montesinos, to bid thee attend his coming in this very place, whither he brings one whom they call Dulcinea del Toboso, in order to give thee instructions touching her disenchantment. Now I have delivered my message, I must fly, and the devils that are like me be with thee, and angels guard the rest." This said, he winded his monstrous horn, and, without staying for an answer, disappeared.

This increased the general consternation, but most of all, surprised Don Quixote and Sancho; the latter to find, that, in spite of truth, they still would have Dulcinea to be enchanted; and the knight to think that the adventures of Montesinos' cave were turned to reality. While he stood pondering these things in his thoughts, "Well, sir," said the duke to him, "what do you intend to do? will you stay?" "Stay!" cried Don Quixote, "sball I not? I will stay here, intrepid and courageous, though all the infernal powers inclose me round." "So you may, if you will," quoth Sancho; "but, if any more devils or horns come hither, they shall as soon find me in Flanders as here."

Now the night grew darker and darker, and several shooting lights were seen glancing up and down the wood, like meteors or glaring exhalations from the earth. Then was heard a horrid noise, like the creaking of the ungreased wheels of heavy wagons, from which piercing and ungrateful sound,

bears and wolves themselves are said to fly. This odious jarring was presently seconded by a greater which seemed to be the dreadful din and shocks of four several engagements, in each quarter of the wood, with all the sounds and hurry of so many joined battles. On one side were heard several peals of cannon; on the other, the discharging of numerous volleys of small shot; here the shouts of the engaging parties, that seemed to be near at hand; there, cries of the Moors, that seemed at a great distance. In short, the strange, confused intermixture of drums, trumpets, cornets, horns, the thundering of the cannon, the rattling of the small shot, the creaking of the wheels, and the cries of the combatants, made the most dismal noise imaginable, and tried Don Quixote's courage to the uttermost. But poor Sancho was annihilated, and fell into a swoon upon the duchess's coats, who, taking care of him, and ordering some water to be sprinkled on his face, at last recovered him, just as the foremost of the creaking carriages came up, drawn by four heavy oxen, covered with mourning, and carrying a large lighted torch upon each horn. On the top of the cart or wagon was an exalted seat, on which sat a venerable old man, with a beard as white as snow, and so long that it reached down to his girdle. He was clad in a long gown of black buckram, as were also two devils that drove the wagons, both so very monstrous and ugly, that Sancho, having seen them once, was forced to shut his eyes, and would not venture upon a second look. The cart, which was stuck full of lights within, being approached to the standing, the reverend old man stood up, and cried

with a loud voice, "I am the Sage Lirgander;" and the cart passed on without one word more being spoken. Then followed another cart, with another grave old man, who, making the cart stop at a convenient distance, rose up from his high seat, and, in as deep a tone as the first, cried, "I am the Sage Alquife, great friend to Urganda the Unknown;" and so went forward. He was succeeded by a third cart, that moved in the same solemn pace, and bore a person not so ancient as the rest, but a robust and sturdy, sour-looked, ill-favored fellow, who rose up from his throne, like the rest, and with a more hollow and diabolical voice, cried out, "I am Archelaus the Enchanter, the mortal enemy of Amadis de Gaul, and all his race;" which said, he passed by, like the other carts; which, taking a short turn, made a halt, and, the grating noise of the wheels ceasing, an excellent concert of sweet music was heard, which mightily comforted poor Sancho; and passing with him for a good omen, " My lady," quoth he to the duchess, from whom he would not budge an inch, "there can be no mischief sure where there is music." "Very true," said the duchess, "especially when there is brightness and light." "Ay, but there is no light without fire,” replied Sancho, "and brightness comes most from flames. Who knows but those about us may burn us! But music I take to be always a sign of feasting and merriment." "We shall know presently what this will come to," said Don Quixote; and he said right, for you will find it in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XXXV.

WHEREIN IS CONTAINED THE INFORMATION GIVEN TO DON QUIXOTE HOW TO DISENCHANT DULCINEA, WITH OTHER WONDERFUL PASSAGES.

WHEN the pleasant music drew near, there appeared a stately triumphal chariot, drawn by six dun mules, covered with white, upon each of which sat a penitent, clad also in white, and holding a great lighted torch in his hand. The carriage was twice or thrice longer than any of the former, twelve other penitents being placed at the top and sides, all in white, and bearing likewise each a lighted torch, which made a dazzling and surprising appearance. There was a high throne erected at the farther end, on which sat a nymph arrayed in cloth of silver, with many golden spangles glittering all about her, which made her dress, though not rich, appear very glorious. Her face was covered with transparent gauze, through the flowing folds of which might be descried a most beautiful face ; and, by the great light which the torches gave, it was easy to discern, that, as she was not less than seventeen years of age, neither could she be thought above twenty. Close by her was a figure, clad in a long gown, like that of a magistrate, reaching down to its feet, and its head covered with a black veil. When they came directly opposite to the company, the shawms or hautboys that played before immediately ceased, and the Spanish harps and lutes,