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The Life and Achievements of Don Quixote De La Mancha is a Spanish epic novel by Miguel de Cervantes. Originally published in two parts, in 1605 and 1615, its full title is The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha. A founding work of Western literature, it is often labelled as the first modern novel and one of the greatest works ever written. Don Quixote is also one of the most-translated books in the world.

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CHAPTER XXVIII.
A continuation of the extraordinary adventures that happened in the inn.

The door being opened, they inquired of the host whether there was not in the house a youth about fifteen years old, habited like a muleteer--in short, describing Donna Clara's lover. The host said that there were so many people in the inn, that he had not observed such a person as they described. But one of them just then seeing the judge's coach, said, "He must certainly be here, for there is the coach which he is said to follow. Let one of us remain here, and the rest go in to search for him; and it would not be amiss for one of us to ride round the house, in case he should attempt to escape over the pales of the yard." All this they immediately did, much to the innkeeper's surprise, who could not guess the meaning of so much activity.
It was now full daylight, and most of the company in the house were rising; among the first were Donna Clara and Dorothea, who had slept but indifferently; the one from concern at being so near her lover, and the other from a desire of seeing him. In the mean time the men pursued their search after the youth, and at last found him peaceably sleeping by the side of a muleteer. One of them, pulling him by the arm, said, "Upon my word, Sigñor Don Louis, your dress is very becoming a gentleman like you, and the bed you lie on is very suitable to the tenderness with which your mother brought you up!" The youth was roused from his sleep, and, looking earnestly at the man who held him, he soon recollected him to be one of his father's servants, and was so confounded that he could not say a word. "Sigñor Don Louis," continued the servant, "you must instantly return home, unless you would cause the death of my lord, your father, he is in such grief at your absence." "Why, how did my father know," said Don Louis, "that I came this road and in this dress?" "He was informed by a student, to whom you mentioned your project, and who was induced to disclose it from compassion at your father's distress. There are four of us here at your service, and we shall be rejoiced to restore you to your family." "That will be as I shall please, or as Heaven may ordain," answered Don Louis. "What, sigñor, should you please to do but return home?" rejoined the servant; "indeed you cannot do otherwise."

The muleteer who had been Don Louis's companion, hearing this contest, went to acquaint Don Fernando and the rest of the company with what was passing, telling them that the man had called the young lad Don, and wanted him to return to his father's house, but that he refused to go. They all recollected his fine voice, and being eager to know who he was, and to assist him if any violence were offered him, they repaired to the place where he was contending with his servant. Dorothea now came out of her chamber with Donna Clara; and, calling Cardenio aside, she related to him in a few words the history of the musician and Donna Clara. He then told her of the search that had been made after the young man by the servants; and although he whispered, he was overheard by Donna Clara, who was thrown into such an agony by the intelligence, that she would have fallen to the ground if Dorothea had not supported her. Cardenio advised her to retire with Donna Clara, while he endeavoured to make some arrangements in their behalf. Don Louis was now surrounded by all the four servants, entreating that he would immediately return to comfort his father. He answered that he could not possibly do so until he had accomplished that on which his life, his honour, and his soul depended. The servants still urged him, saying they would certainly not go back without him, and that they must compel him to return if he refused. "That you shall not do," replied Don Louis; "at least you shall not take me living." This contest had now drawn together most of the people in the house; Don Fernando, Cardenio, the judge, the priest, the barber, and even Don Quixote had quitted his post of castleguard. Cardenio, already knowing the young man's story, asked the men why they would take away the youth against his will. "To save his father's life," replied one of them; "which is in danger from distress of mind." "There is no occasion to give an account of my affairs here," said Don Louis; "I am free, and will go back if I please; otherwise none of you shall force me." "But reason will prevail with you," answered the servant; "and if not, we must do our duty." "Hold," said the judge; "let us know the whole of this affair." The man (who recollected him) answered, "Does not your worship know this gentleman? He is your neighbour's son, and has absented himself from his father's house, in a garb very unbecoming his quality, as your worship may see." The judge, after looking at him with attention, recognised him, and accosted him in a friendly manner: "What childish frolic is this, Sigñor Don Louis," said he; "or what powerful motive has induced you to disguise yourself in a manner so unbecoming your rank?" The eyes of the youth were filled with tears, and he could not say a word. The judge desired the servants to be quiet, promising that all should be well; and taking Don Louis by the hand, he led him aside and questioned him.
The youth, clasping his hands, as if some great affliction wrung his heart, and shedding tears in abundance, said, in answer, "I can only say, dear sir, that, from the moment Heaven was pleased, by means of our vicinity, to give me a sight of Donna Clara, your daughter, she became sovereign mistress of my affections; and if you, my true lord and father, do not oppose it, this very day she shall be my wife. For her I left my father's house, and for her I assumed this garb, to follow her wheresoever she might go. She knows herself no more of my passion than what she may have perceived, by occasionally seeing at a distance my eyes full of tenderness and tears. You know, my lord, the wealth and rank of my family, of whom I am the sole heir; if these circumstances can plead in my favour, receive me immediately for your son: for though my father, influenced by other views of his own, should not approve my choice, time may reconcile him to it." Here the enamoured youth was silent; and the judge remained in suspense, no less surprised by the ingenuous confession of Don Louis than perplexed how to act in the affair; in reply, therefore, he only desired him to be calm for the present, and not let his servants return that day, that there might be time to consider what was most expedient to be done. Don Louis kissed his hands with vehemence, bathing them with tears that might have softened a heart of marble, much more that of the judge, who, being a man of sense, was aware how advantageous this match would be for his daughter. Nevertheless, he would rather, if possible, that it should take place with the consent of Don Louis's father, who he knew had pretensions to a title for his son.

Now it so happened that, at this time, the very barber entered the inn who had been deprived of Mambrino's helmet by Don Quixote, and of the trappings of his ass by Sancho Panza; and as he was leading his beast to the stable, he espied Sancho Panza, who at that moment was repairing something about the self-same pannel. He instantly fell upon him with fury: "Ah, thief!" said he, "have I got you at last!-give me my basin and my pannel, with all the furniture you stole from me!" Sancho, finding himself thus suddenly attacked and abused, secured the pannel with one hand, and with the other made the barber such a return, that his mouth was bathed in blood. Nevertheless, the barber would not let go his hold; but raised his voice so high that he drew every body round him, while he called out, "Justice, in the king's name! This rogue and highway robber here would murder me for endeavouring to recover my own goods." "You lie," answered Sancho; "I am no highway robber; my master, Don Quixote, won these spoils in fair war." Don Quixote was now present, and not a little pleased to see how well his squire acted both on the offensive and defensive; and, regarding him thenceforward as a man of mettle, he resolved in his mind to dub him a knight the first opportunity that offered, thinking the order of chivalry would be well bestowed upon him.
During this contest the barber made many protestations. "Gentlemen," said he, "this pannel is certainly mine; and moreover, the very day they took this from me, they robbed me likewise of a new brass basin, never hanselled, that cost me a crown." Here Don Quixote could not forbear interposing. "The error of this honest squire," said he, "is manifest, in calling that a basin which is Mambrino's helmet:-that helmet which I won in fair war, and am therefore its right and lawful possessor. In confirmation of what I say, go, Sancho, and bring hither the helmet which this honest man terms a basin." "In faith, sir," quoth Sancho, "if we have no better proof than that of what your worship says, Mambrino's helmet will prove as arrant a basin as the honest man's trappings are a pack-saddle." "Do what I command," replied Don Quixote; "for surely all things in this castle cannot be governed by enchantment." Sancho went for the basin, and, returning with it, he gave it to Don Quixote. "Only behold, gentlemen," said he; "how can this squire have the face to declare that this is a basin, and not the helmet which I have described to you! By the order of knighthood which I profess, I swear that this very helmet is the same which I took from him, without addition or diminution." "There is no doubt of that," quoth Sancho, "for from the time my master won it until now, he has fought but one battle in it, which was when he freed those unlucky galley-slaves; and had it not been for that same basin-helmet, he would not have got off so well from the showers of stones which rained upon him in that skirmish."

CHAPTER XXIX.
In which the dispute concerning Mambrino's helmet is decided; with other adventures that really and truly happened.

"Good sirs," quoth the barber, "hear what these gentlefolks say! They will have it that this is no basin, but a helmet!" "Ay," said Don Quixote; "and whoever shall affirm the contrary, I will convince him, if he be a knight, that he lies, and if a squire, that he lies and lies again, a thousand times." Our barber, master Nicholas, who was present, wishing to carry on the jest for the amusement of the company, addressed himself to the other barber, and said, "Sigñor barber, know that I am of your profession, and am well acquainted with all the instruments of barber-surgery, without exception. I have likewise been a soldier in my youth, and therefore know what a helmet is, and I say, with submission, that the piece before us not only is not a barber's basin, but is as far from being so, as white is from black and truth from falsehood." "Whether it be or not," said the priest, "must be left to the decision of Sigñor Don Quixote: for in matters of chivalry all these gentlemen and myself submit to his judgment." "Gentlemen," said Don Quixote, "such extraordinary things have befallen me in this castle, that I dare not vouch for the certainty of any thing that it may contain; for I verily believe that all is conducted by the powers of enchantment."

To those acquainted with Don Quixote, all this was choice entertainment; while to others it seemed the height of folly, among which were Don Louis, his servants, and three other guests, troopers of the holy brotherhood, who just then arrived at the inn. One of the officers of the holy brotherhood, who had overheard the dispute, cried out, full of indignation, "It is as surely a basin as my father is my father; and whosoever says, or shall say, to the contrary, must be mad or drunk." "You lie like a pitiful scoundrel," answered Don Quixote; and, lifting up his lance, which was still in his hand, he aimed such a blow at the head of the trooper, that, had he not slipped aside, he would have been levelled to the ground. The lance came down with such fury that it was shivered to pieces. "Help, help the holy brotherhood!" cried out the other officers. The innkeeper, being himself one of that body, ran instantly for his wand and his sword, to support his comrades. Don Louis's servants surrounded their master, lest he should escape during the confusion. The barber, perceiving the house turned topsy-turvy, laid hold again of his basin, and Sancho did the same. Don Quixote drew his sword, and fell upon the troopers; and Don Louis called out to his servants to leave him, that they might assist Don Quixote, Cardenio, and Don Fernando, who all took part with the knight. The priest cried out, the hostess shrieked, her daughter wept, Maritornes roared, Dorothea was alarmed, Lucinda stood amazed, and Donna Clara fainted away. The barber cuffed Sancho, and Sancho pommelled the barber. Don Fernando got one of the troopers down, and laid on his blows most unmercifully; while the innkeeper bawled aloud for help to the holy brotherhood. Thus was the whole inn filled with cries, wailings, and shrieks, dismay, confusion, and terror, kicks, cudgellings, and effusion of blood. In the midst of this chaos and hurly-burly, Don Quixote suddenly conceived that he was involved over head and ears in the discord of King Agramante's camp; and he called out in a voice which made the whole inn shake, "Hold, all of you! Put up your swords; be pacified, and listen all to me, if ye would live." His vehemence made them desist, and he went on, saying: "Did I not tell you, sirs, that this castle was enchanted, and that some legion of devils must inhabit it? Behold the confirmation of what I said! Mark, with your own eyes, how the discord of Agramante's camp is transferred hither amongst us! there they fight for the sword, here for the horse, yonder for the eagle, here again for the helmet: we all fight, and no one understands another. Let, then, my lord judge and his reverence the priest come forward, the one as King Agramante, the other as King Sobrino, and restore us to peace; for, truly, it were most disgraceful and iniquitous that so many gentlemen of our rank should slay each other for such trivial matters."
Amity and peace having been restored by the interposition of the judge and the priest, the servants of Don Louis renewed their solicitations for his return. The judge having, in the mean time, informed Don Fernando, Cardenio, and the priest, of what had passed between himself and the young man, he consulted with them on the affair; and it was finally agreed that Don Fernando should make himself known to Don Louis's servants, and inform them that it was his desire that the young gentleman should accompany him to Andalusia, where he would be treated by the marquis his brother in a manner suitable to his quality; for his determination was, at all events, not to return, just at that time, into his father's presence. The servants being apprised of Don Fernando's rank, and finding Don Louis resolute, agreed among themselves, that three of them should return to give his father account of what had passed, and that the others should stay to attend Don Louis, and not leave him until he knew his lord's pleasure. Thus was this complicated tumult appeased by the authority of Agramante, and the prudence of Sobrino.

But the enemy of peace and concord, finding himself foiled and disappointed in the scanty produce of so promising a field, resolved to try his fortune once more, by contriving new frays and disturbances. The officers of the holy brotherhood, on hearing the quality of their opponents, retreated from the fray, thinking that whatever might be the issue, they were likely to be losers. But one of this body, who had been severely handled by Don Fernando, happening to recollect that, among other warrants in his possession, he had one against Don Quixote, whom his superiors had ordered to be taken into custody for releasing galley-slaves, determined to examine whether the person of Don Quixote answered the description; thus confirming Sancho's just apprehensions. He drew forth a parchment scroll from his doublet, and began to read it slowly (for he was not much of a scholar), ever and anon, as he proceeded, fixing his eyes on Don Quixote, comparing the marks in his warrant with the lines of his physiognomy. Finding them exactly to correspond, and being convinced that he was the very person therein described, he held out the warrant in his left hand, while with his right, he seized Don Quixote by the collar with so powerful a grasp as almost to strangle him, at the same time crying aloud,"Help the holy brotherhood! and, that you may see I require it in earnest, read this warrant, wherein it is expressly ordered that this highway robber should be apprehended." The priest took the warrant, and found what the trooper said was true; the description exactly corresponding with the person of Don Quixote. The knight, finding himself so rudely handled by this scoundrel, was exasperated to the highest pitch, and, trembling with rage, caught the trooper by the throat with both hands; and, had he not been immediately rescued by his comrades, he would certainly have been strangled. "What my master says is true," exclaimed Sancho, "about the enchantments of this castle; for it is impossible to live an hour quietly in it." Don Fernando at length parted the officer and Don Quixote, and, to the satisfaction of both, unlocked their hands from the doublet collar of the one, and from the windpipe of the other. Nevertheless the troopers persisted in claiming their prisoner; declaring that the king's service, and that of the holy brotherhood, required it; in whose name they again demanded help and assistance in apprehending that common robber and highway thief. Don Quixote smiled at these expressions, and, with great calmness, said, "Come hither, base and ill-born crew: call ye it robbing on the highway to loosen the chains of the captive, to set the prisoner free, to succour the oppressed, to raise the fallen, to relieve the needy and wretched? Tell me, ye rogues in a troop!-not troopers, but highway marauders, under license of the holy brotherhood--who was the blockhead that signed the warrant for apprehending such a knight as I am? What knight-errant ever paid custom, poll-tax, subsidy, quit-rent, porterage, or ferry-boat? What tailor ever brought in a bill for making his clothes? What governor that lodged him in his castle ever made him pay for his entertainment? What king did not seat him at his table? Finally, what knight-errant ever did, or shall exist, who has not courage, with his single arm, to bestow a hundred bastinadoes on any four hundred troopers of the holy brotherhood who shall dare to oppose him?"

CHAPTER XXX.
The notable adventure of the Holy Brotherhood; with an account of the ferocity of our good Knight, Don Quixote.

While Don Quixote was thus haranguing the officers, the priest was endeavouring to persuade them that, since Don Quixote, as they might easily perceive, was deranged in his mind, it was useless for them to proceed farther in the affair; for, if they were to apprehend him, he would soon be released as insane. But the trooper only said, in answer, that it was not his business to judge of the state of Don Quixote's intellects, but to obey the order of his superior; and that, when he had once secured him, they might set him free as often as they pleased. "Indeed," said the priest, "you must forbear this once; nor do I think that he will suffer himself to be taken." In fact the priest said so much, and Don Quixote acted so extravagantly, that the officers would have been more crazy than himself had they not desisted after such evidence of his infirmity. They judged it best, therefore, to be quiet, and endeavour to make peace between the barber and Sancho Panza, who still continued their scuffle with great rancour. As officers of justice, therefore, they compounded the matter, and pronounced such a decision that, if both parties were not perfectly contented, at least they were in some degree pacified. As for Mambrino's helmet, the priest, unknown to Don Quixote, paid the barber eight reals, for which he received a discharge in full, acquitting him of all fraud thenceforth and for evermore.

Thus were these important contests decided; and fortune seemed to smile on all the heroes and heroines of the inn--even the face of Donna Clara betrayed the joy of her heart, as the servants of Don Louis had acquiesced in his wishes. The innkeeper, observing the recompense which the priest had made the barber, claimed also the payment of his demands upon Don Quixote, with ample satisfaction for the damage done to his skins, and the loss of his wine. The priest, however, endeavoured to soothe him, and, what was more, Don Fernando settled the knight's account, although the judge would fain have taken the debt upon himself. Peace was therefore entirely restored, and the inn no longer displayed the confusion of Agramante's camp, as Don Quixote had called it, but rather the tranquillity of the days of Octavius Caesar:-thanks to the mediation and eloquence of the priest, and the liberality of Don Fernando.
Don Quixote, now finding himself disengaged, thought it was time to pursue his journey, and accomplish the grand enterprise to which he had been elected. Accordingly, he approached the princess, and threw himself upon his knees before her; but she would not listen to him in that posture; and therefore, in obedience to her, he arose, and thus addressed her: "It is a common adage, fair lady, that 'diligence is the mother of success;' and experience constantly verifies its truth: the active solicitor brings the doubtful suit to a happy issue. But this truth is never more obvious than in military operations, where expedition and despatch anticipate the designs of the enemy, and victory is secured before he is prepared for defence. I am induced to make these remarks, most exalted lady, because our abode in this castle seems no longer necessary, and may indeed be prejudicial; for who knows but your enemy the giant may, by secret spies, get intelligence of my approach, and thus gain time to fortify himself in some impregnable fortress, against which my vigilance, and the force of my indefatigable arm, may be ineffectual. Therefore, sovereign lady, that his designs may be prevented by our diligence, let us depart quickly in the name of that good fortune which will be yours the moment I come face to face with your enemy." Here Don Quixote was silent, and with dignified composure awaited the answer of the beautiful infanta, who, with an air of majesty, and in a style corresponding with that of her knight, thus replied: "I am obliged to you, sir knight, for the zeal you testify in my cause, so worthy of a true knight, whose office and employment it is to succour the orphan and distressed; and Heaven grant that our desires may be soon accomplished; that you may see that all women are not ungrateful. As to my departure, let it be instantly; for I have no other will but yours; dispose of me entirely at your pleasure: for she who has committed the defence of her person, and the restoration of her dominions, into your hands, must not oppose what your wisdom shall direct." "I will not," exclaimed Don Quixote, "lose the opportunity of exalting a lady who thus humbleth herself. I will replace her on the throne of her ancestors. Let us depart immediately: for the ardour of my zeal makes me impatient; nor is there aught of danger that can daunt or affright me. Sancho, let Rozinante be saddled, get ready thine own beast, and also her majesty's palfrey; let us take our leave of the governor of the castle, and of these nobles, that we may set forth instantly."

Sancho, who had been present all the time, shook his head, saying, "Ah, master of mine! there are more tricks in the town than are dreamt of; with all respect be it spoken." "What tricks can there be to my prejudice in any town or city in the world, thou bumpkin?" said Don Quixote. "If your worship puts yourself into a passion," answered Sancho, "I will hold my tongue, and not say what I am bound to say, as a faithful squire and a dutiful servant." "Say what thou wilt," replied Don Quixote, "but think not to intimidate me; for it is thy nature to be faint-hearted--mine, to be proof against all fear." "I mean nothing of all this," answered Sancho; "I mean only that I am sure, and positively certain, that this lady who calls herself queen of the great kingdom of Micomicon is no more a queen than my mother; for if she were so, she would not be nuzzling, at every turn and in every corner, with a certain person in the company." Dorothea's colour rose at Sancho's remark; for it was indeed true that her spouse, Don Fernando, now and then, by stealth, had snatched with his lips an earnest of that reward his affections deserved; and Sancho, having observed it, thought this freedom unbecoming the queen of so vast a kingdom. How great was the indignation of Don Quixote, on hearing his squire speak in terms so disrespectful! It was so great that, with a faltering voice and stammering tongue, while living fire darted from his eyes, he cried, "Scoundrel! unmannerly, ignorant, ill-spoken, foul-mouthed, impudent, murmuring, and backbiting villain! How darest thou utter such words in my presence, and in the presence of these illustrious ladies! Avoid my presence, monster of nature, treasury of lies, magazine of deceits, storehouse of rogueries, inventor of mischiefs, publisher of absurdities, and foe to all the honour due to royalty! Begone! appear not before me, on pain of my severest indignation!" Poor Sancho was so terrified by this storm of passion, that he would have been glad if the earth had opened that instant and swallowed him up; he knew not what to say or do, so he turned his back, and hastened as fast as he could out of the presence of his enraged master.
But the discreet Dorothea, perfectly understanding Don Quixote, in order to pacify his wrath, said, "Be not offended, Sir Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, at the impertinence of your good squire; for, perhaps, he has not spoken without some foundation: nor can it be suspected, considering his good sense and Christian conscience, that he would bear false witness against any body; it is possible that since, as you affirm yourself, sir knight, the powers of enchantment prevail in this castle, Sancho may, by the same diabolical illusion, have seen what he has affirmed, so much to the prejudice of my honour." "Ah!" quoth Don Quixote, "your highness has hit the mark!-some evil apparition must have appeared to this sinner, and represented to him what it was impossible for him to see any other way; for I am perfectly assured of the simplicity and innocence of the unhappy wretch, and that he is incapable of slandering any person living." "So it is, and so it shall be," said Don Fernando; "therefore, Sigñor Don Quixote, you ought to pardon him, and restore him to your favour, as at first, before these illusions turned his brain." Don Quixote having promised his forgiveness, the priest went for Sancho, who came in with much humility, and, on his knees, begged his master's hand, which was given to him; and after he had allowed him to kiss it, he gave him his blessing, adding, "Thou wilt now, son Sancho, be thoroughly convinced of what I have often told thee, that all things in this castle are conducted by enchantment." "I believe so too," quoth Sancho, "except the business of the blanket, which I am persuaded really fell out in the ordinary way."

This illustrious company had now passed two days in the inn; and thinking it time to depart, they considered how the priest and barber might convey the knight to his home, without troubling Dorothea and Don Fernando to accompany them; and for that purpose, having first engaged a waggoner who happened to pass by with his team of oxen, they proceeded in the following manner: They formed a kind of cage, with poles grate-wise, large enough to contain Don Quixote at his ease; then, by the direction of the priest, Don Fernando and his companions, with Don Louis's servants, the officers of the holy brotherhood, and the innkeeper, covered their faces and disguised themselves so as not to be recognised by Don Quixote. This done, they silently entered the room where the knight lay fast asleep, reposing after his late exertions, and secured him with cords; so that when he awoke, he stared about in amazement at the strange visages that surrounded him, but found himself totally unable to move. His disordered imagination operating as usual, immediately suggested to him that these were goblins of the enchanted castle, and that he was entangled in its charms, since he felt himself unable to stir in his own defence; a surmise which the curate, who projected the stratagem, had anticipated. Sancho alone was in his own proper figure; and though he wanted but little of being infected with his master's infirmity, yet he was not ignorant who all these counterfeit goblins were. Having brought the cage into the chamber, they placed him within it, and secured it so that it was impossible he should make his escape; in this situation he was conveyed out of the house; and on leaving the chamber, a voice was heard as dreadful as the barber could form, saying, "O Knight of the Sorrowful Figure! let not thy present confinement afflict thee, since it is essential to the speedy accomplishment of the adventure in which thy great valour hath engaged thee; which shall be finished when the furious Manchegan lion shall be coupled with the white Tobosian dove, after having submitted their stately necks to the soft matrimonial yoke; from which wonderful union shall spring into the light of the world brave whelps, who shall emulate the ravaging claws of their valorous sire.-And thou, O the most noble and obedient squire that ever had sword in belt! be not dismayed to see the flower of knight-errantry carried thus away before thine eyes; for, ere long, thou shalt see thyself so exalted and sublimated as not to know thyself; and thus will the promises of thy valorous lord be fulfilled. Be assured, moreover, that thy wages shall be punctually paid thee: follow, therefore, the valorous and enchanted knight; for it is expedient for thee to go where ye both may find repose. More I am not permitted to say. Heaven protect thee! I now go--I well know whither!"
Don Quixote was much comforted by this prophecy, quickly comprehending the whole signification thereof; for he saw that it promised him the felicity of being joined in holy wedlock with his beloved Dulcinea del Toboso. Upon the strength of this conviction, he exclaimed, with a deep sigh, "O thou, whoever thou art, who hast prognosticated me so much good, I beseech thee to intercede in my behalf with the sage enchanter who hath the charge of my affairs, that he suffer me not to perish in the prison wherein I am now enclosed, before these promises of joyful and heavenly import are fulfilled." The goblins then took the cage on their shoulders, and placed it on the waggon.