فصل 05

مجموعه: کتاب های ساده / کتاب: دون کیشوت / فصل 5

کتاب های ساده

100 کتاب | 1072 فصل

فصل 05

توضیح مختصر

  • زمان مطالعه 19 دقیقه
  • سطح سخت

دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»

این فصل را می‌توانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید

دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»

فایل صوتی

دانلود فایل صوتی

متن انگلیسی فصل

CHAPTER FIVE

The Final Adventures

Sancho grumbled and sulked for three days as Don Quixote led them through the forest. Their food was almost gone, and the squire had to go to sleep hungry, under a damp blanket worrying about wolves and other predators. Don Quixote was proud of their sufferings, often reminding Sancho that “a hard life makes a brave heart.”

On the fourth day, at sunset, they came across a group of riders. Among them was a lady dressed in green velvet. She sat atop a majestic white stallion and held a falcon on her arm.

“A huntress,” gasped Don Quixote. “Perhaps even a princess. She’ll certainly want to be introduced to me.”

“She probably just wants us to mind our own business,” Sancho replied with a grin.

Ignoring his squire, the knight commanded him, “Ride over there and introduce me.”

Sancho groaned and spurred his donkey in the group’s direction.

“My lady,” he called. “My master, the Knight of the Lions, formerly known as the Knight of the Long Face, wishes to… “Wait,” interrupted the lady, “Did you say the Knight of the Long Face?”

“Yes, and I’m his squire, Sancho…”

“Panza?” interrupted the lady again with a smile.

“Yes,” gulped Sancho. “Do you know about us?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ve read the book of your adventures. It’s my husband’s and my favorite book!”

“Shall I bring him over then?” asked Sancho.

“You must do more than that,” said the lady. “You and your master must come to our nearby castle as distinguished guests of my husband, the Duke.”

The Duchess giggled when Sancho accepted her invitation. In truth, she and her husband thought the book Don Quixote was the finest comedy ever written. She and her husband were great jokers, and she figured they would be able to have some fun with the crazy knight and his dim-witted sidekick.

The group with Don Quixote and Sancho soon crossed a drawbridge and found themselves inside a vast, opulent castle. Two trumpeters sounded the knight’s arrival, and a group of maidens surrounded them, fanning jars of perfume.

That night, the knight and his squire ate the best meal of their lives while chatting with their hosts. The Duke and Duchess listened with great interest about all of their recent adventures. But their greatest interest was in hearing news of Dulcinea.

When they asked about Dulcinea, the knight replied sadly, “My beautiful lady has been transformed into a vulgar, donkey-riding trollop by an evil wizard.”

“How terrible!” gasped the Duchess, barely able to contain her laughter.

The next day, the Duke and Duchess convinced Don Quixote to accompany them on a wild boar hunt in the forest. But they had made secret plans to play a big joke on the knight and his squire.

While they were hunting, there was a sudden noise coming through the trees.

“My men must have found a boar. It’s coming toward us. Beware its tusks!” said the Duchess.

But when the trees parted, there was no wild boar. Rather, a black stallion came prancing and kicking before them. On its back rode a man, covered in twigs, leaves, and ivy.

“I am the forest sprite!” the strange figure wearing a green mask with horns on top of his head shouted. “The demons of the forest have sent me with a message for the knight-errant, Don Quixote de La Mancha!”

“I am Don Quixote,” replied the knight.

“To free your lady from their spell,” the sprite continued, “you must do two things. First of all, your squire must lash himself.”

“How many times?” screamed Sancho.

“Three thousand, three hundred times.”

Sancho gasped in disbelief.

“But first, you must ride a flying horse through the air and over the mountains. This horse waits for you at the Duke’s castle. If you are brave enough to perform these two tasks, your beloved Dulcinea will be set free,” said the forest sprite.

Then the creature turned and rode away.

“It’s a miracle!” cried the Duchess, “We must return to the castle at once!”

“Yes, but first, Sancho, fetch me a whip,” shouted Don Quixote. “You can begin lashing yourself while we ride!”

The terrified squire had already ridden away from the knight’s grasp.

Back at the castle, the servants were rushing around, shouting alarm from the towers. There was a giant wooden horse in the middle of the courtyard. The servants told the Duke it had suddenly and mysteriously dropped from the sky. Meanwhile, Don Quixote and Sancho were arguing about the lashes the squire must suffer to free Dulcinea.

“I won’t do it,” cried the squire.

“For the sake of my lady, I beg you,” sobbed the knight.

The Duchess approached them. “You two must cease your squabbling,” she said, leading them into the courtyard. She was enjoying every moment of this grand practical joke she had planned with her husband.

Don Quixote stared up at the wooden horse in amazement.

“What a creature! It must be twenty feet tall!”

Sancho’s knees knocked together in fear. There was a rope ladder on the side which they climbed up. Seeing them mount the wooden horse, the Duke and Duchess could hardly control their laughter.

When the two seated themselves on top of the horse, Sancho found there was nothing to hold on to. So he grabbed onto Don Quixote’s trouser belt with both hands.

“There is a carving in the wood here!” exclaimed Don Quixote. “It says we have to blindfold ourselves. Anyone who rides this magic horse without a blindfold will be struck dead!” “I’ve got a handkerchief!” said Sancho.

He pulled out his handkerchief, tore it in two, and gave half to his master. The two fixed the smelly halves of handkerchief around their faces. From a balcony, the Duchess and Duke squealed with pleasure at the sight of the two fools on the horse.

Once their eyes were covered, a servant tapped on the horse, and the servants inside lifted it three feet off the ground and rocked it from side to side.

“We’re up in the clouds, Sancho,” cried Don Quixote,

“I’m feeling airsick,” moaned Sancho.

On a balcony across from the knight and squire, four maidens were pumping a pair of bellows and dousing them with cups of water.

“Hold on, Sancho. We’re flying through a rainstorm!” called Don Quixote.

At this point, the Duke and Duchess were laughing their socks off. But they were also beginning to feel guilty for playing such a prank on the good knight. The Duke signaled to his butler for the grand finale.

A servant lit the horse’s tail on fire. There was a “POP” and a “FIZZ” as hundreds of fireworks hidden inside the tail exploded. Sancho wrapped his arms around the knight and howled, “Save me, Master. I promise I’ll suffer the lashing!”

“All of them?” asked Don Quixote.

“Every one!” cried Sancho.

Then Don Quixote beat the top of the horse with his fist. But this only made the men inside rock it harder. Finally, they tilted it too far, and the wooden horse crashed to the ground. Sancho and the knight were thrown to safety, landing on the soft grass of the castle lawn. Quickly the servants carried the horse away.

By the time Don Quixote and Sancho tore the rags from their eyes, they were facing the Duchess who leaned over them, acting concerned.

“Welcome back,” she said softly, “You’ve been gone for hours. We were so worried. How was the ride?”

Sancho and Don Quixote rested for a few days. Then the knight announced it was time for them to leave.

“But what about Sancho’s lashing?” asked the Duchess, who didn’t want to miss out on the spectacle.

“He’ll have to carry out the lashes while we travel. Life at court is softening my sword arm. It is time for us to go. I thank you for your hospitality.”

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode away toward the sea and the city of Barcelona.

The next morning, Don Quixote told Sancho, “I want to see you do some whipping right now.”

“Don’t rush me,” cried Sancho, jumping to his feet. “And I prefer to perform my lashing in private.”

“I don’t care how you do it, but I want to hear each lash so I know you’re not shirking.”

“Fine,” snapped Sancho, “I’ll get started.”

He grabbed the whip and stomped off into the trees. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and cracked the whip against the trunk of the tree.

“Ow!” he yelled. “That one almost drew blood!”

A few days later, when Don Quixote and Sancho rode into Barcelona, word had already spread of their arrival. The streets were filled with citizens trying to get a glimpse of the crazy yet noble knight. People threw flowers and cheered. The leader of their escort allowed Don Quixote and Sancho to stay in his luxurious villa in the middle of the city.

For two weeks they lived like kings. They were paid daily visits by generals, admirals, and high-ranking public officials.

Each morning, Don Quixote would take Rocinante for a trot along the beach. Then one day, as he was on his morning jaunt, he saw a figure approaching him from down the beach. The figure was a knight, wearing a full suit of armor with his visor lowered. When Don Quixote neared the knight, he could see a white crescent emblem on his chest.

“Halt, the Knight of the Lions!” called the Knight of the White Moon. “I have a challenge for you.”

“Don Quixote is always ready for a challenge,” the old hidalgo answered bravely.

“Then we will joust,” said the strange knight, raising a shiny new lance.

“Name your terms,” called Don Quixote.

“If you win, this fine horse and my new lance are yours. If I am the victor, you must retire from your career as a knight-errant.”

“Retire?” cried Don Quixote. “But that is impossible.”

“We young knights are tired of you getting all of the public’s attention. We want you to return to your village for a year and live a peaceful life.”

“I accept your terms!” snapped Don Quixote.

Then both knights turned away from each other and checked their weapons. When they turned, the Knight of the White Moon spurred his horse into a gallop and thrust his lance toward Don Quixote.

He held his lance with such precision that the elderly knight didn’t have a chance and was thrown from his saddle. He landed in the shallow water and sand of the beach. In a flash, the Knight of the White Moon dismounted and pressed his sword to Don Quixote’s neck.

“You are vanquished. Do you concede?” demanded the Knight of the White Moon.

“But it means the end of my life,” sobbed Don Quixote. “Without chivalry, I am nothing.” “You gave your word,” snarled the victor. “I will retire,” coughed Don Quixote, “as I promised.”

The knight’s tears of defeat mixed with the salt water of the waves. “This is the darkest day of all my adventures,” he moaned.

But the Knight of the White Moon showed no mercy and rode off on his stallion. The broken hidalgo sat, sobbing in the surf.

Later, Don Quixote hobbled back to town. He never realized that the Knight of the White Moon was actually the youth, Carrasco. In the months since he had been defeated as the Knight of the Forest, he had studied jousting and horsemanship. He was determined to have his revenge on Don Quixote and to return the crazy hidalgo to his friends in the village.

When Sancho heard of Don Quixote’s defeat and retirement, he sobbed.

“You can’t quit, Sire. Old dogs don’t learn new tricks.”

“I promised. Now help me take off my armor. I no longer need it.”

As the two began their three-day journey home, they lamented their fate.

One night, the two men made camp by a stream. Sancho had been trying to lift the broken-hearted knight’s spirits all day.

“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” he asked.

“If I knew my lady was safe,” said Don Quixote, “I might be able to smile again.”

So Sancho wandered off into the nearby woods and lashed a tree letting out blood-chilling cries with each crack of the whip. When Sancho had lashed all the bark off the tree, Don Quixote told him he had finished a thousand lashes and he stopped for the day.

“I am proud of you,” Don Quixote told him warmly. “If you can manage a thousand per night, Dulcinea will be free by the time we reach our village.”

They rode hard each day, passing by many sights of past adventures. Each night, Sancho found a suitable tree to whip and rack up another thousand lashes. On the fourth morning, he completed the final two hundred and forty-eight lashes. Don Quixote shook his hand and promised to double his salary if they ever went questing again.

When Don Quixote rode into the courtyard of his home, the housekeeper dropped her basket of laundry in the dust.

“Master, you’re back in one piece,” she cried.

“I am weak,” whispered Don Quixote, “Sancho, help me to my room.”

Back in his bed, the old hidalgo slipped into a sleep that lasted for six days. The fever he had gotten grew stronger each day. He cried and moaned in his sleep, as if being haunted by nightmares. Meanwhile, his friends waited patiently by his bedside. After a week, he opened his eyes to see the priest and the barber sitting at the end of his bed.

“I am back,” muttered the old knight.

“Don Quixote!” they shouted, rushing to his side.

“My name is Alonso Quixano,” said the man in the bed. “I was mad, but now my mind is restored.”

“Is it true? Are all your thoughts of chivalry and wizards really gone from your head?” asked the priest.

“They are all gone,” he replied softly. “I am sane enough to know that I am dying.”

The news that the hidalgo was on his deathbed raced around the village. Sancho came running in from the fields where he had been at work. He was shown into the room and knelt down at his former master’s side.

“Perhaps you were a little crazy,” Sancho sobbed, “but if you were still a knight, you would not die.”

“Your friend who was a knight,” replied the hidalgo, “is no longer here. You must forget him.”

“I cannot,” sobbed the squire.

Sancho tried to convince his old friend not to give up the ghost. But the old hidalgo was overcome with fever. Sancho waited at his bedside for three days until finally, the old knight slipped away.

This was the end of the brave knight, Don Quixote de La Mancha. In his madness, he accomplished feats that ordinary men can only dream of. The stories of his amazing adventures have been told for more than four hundred years.

Rest in peace, noble Don Quixote. May the questing be grand and the adventures bring you glory…

مشارکت کنندگان در این صفحه

تا کنون فردی در بازسازی این صفحه مشارکت نداشته است.

🖊 شما نیز می‌توانید برای مشارکت در ترجمه‌ی این صفحه یا اصلاح متن انگلیسی، به این لینک مراجعه بفرمایید.