Don Quixote by Henry Brook

Don Quixote by Henry Brook

Author:Henry Brook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Usborne Publishing Ltd
Published: 2014-10-01T00:00:00+00:00


“In you go, knight,” the demons hissed. “Our enchanter master is sending you on a journey back to your village.”

Don Quixote struggled for all he was worth, but he was no match for the enchanter’s minions. They tossed him into the cage and tied the door shut with some twine. Then they strapped Sancho to his donkey, roped its halter to the bars of the cage and opened the courtyard gates.

“Your friend, the village priest, is passing on the highway,” the demons cackled. “He will guide you home.”

One of the demons – in truth the officer from the night before – took the reins of the cart and drove it out to the road. There the barber was waiting to replace him in the seat. The demons ran back to the inn, turning to wave farewell to the priest, because among them were Cardenio and Fernando – and it is only polite for friends to wave farewell.

The priest had arranged the whole ruse, and Don Quixote could only groan at the audacity of his opponent, the enchanter, as he rattled along the dusty track that led to his village.

“But I suppose I have reasons to be cheerful,” the knight said with a sigh, “despite my imprisonment.”

“What are they, then?” cried Sancho, who was still none the wiser about the deception and was mourning his lost position as a governor of an island.

“We have had some adventures together, squire,” replied Don Quixote, “the like of which no common man will ever experience. And we are lucky that our good friends the priest and the barber happened to be passing, because I like their company.”

“That’s so,” agreed Sancho. “And I have the hundred escudos, safe in my money-belt. My wife will be sure to give me a smile when she sees them glinting in my hand.”

“All in all,” the knight continued, “our adventures have been glorious. I have no idea what is to come, but I am sure it will be just as thrilling.”

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, as the cart creaked its way homeward, across the scorched scrubland of La Mancha.



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