"It can not be the Moor," answered. Don Quixote, "for those under enchantment do not let themselves be seen by any one."
"If they don't let themselves be seen, they let themselves be felt," said Sancho; "if not, let my shoulders speak to the point."
"Mine could, speak too," said Don Quixote, "but that is not a sufficient reason for believing that what we see is the enchanted Moor."
The officer came up, and finding them engaged in such a peaceful conversation, stood amazed; though Don Quixote, to be sure, still lay on his back unable to move from pure pummelling and plasters. The officer turned to him and said, "Well, how goes it, good man?"
"I would, speak more politely if I were you," replied Don Quixote; "is it the way of this country to address knights-errant in that style, you booby?"
The officer finding himself so disrespectfully treated by such a sorry-looking individual, lost his temper, and raising the lamp full of oil, smote Don Quixote such a blow with it on the head that he gave him a badly broken pate; then, all being in darkness, he went out, and Sancho Panza said, "That is certainly the enchanted Moor, señor, and he keeps the treasure for others, and for us only the cuffs and lamp-whacks."
"That is the truth," answered Don Quixote, "and there is no use in troubling one's self about these matters of enchantment or being angry or vexed at them, for, as they are invisible and visionary we shall find no one on whom to avenge ourselves, do what we may; rise, Sancho, if thou canst, and call the alcaide of this fortress, and get him to give me a little oil, wine, salt, and. rosemary to make the salutiferous balsam, for indeed I believe I have great need of it now, because I am losing much blood, from the wound, that phantom gave me."
Sancho got up with pain enough in his bones, and went after the innkeeper in the dark, and meeting the officer, who was looking to see what had become of his enemy, he said to him, "Señor, whoever you are, do us the favor and. kindness to give us a little rosemary, oil, salt, and wine, for it is wanted to cure one of the best knights-errant on earth, who lies on yonder bed sorely wounded by the hands of the enchanted Moor that is in this inn."
When the officer heard him talk in this way, he took him
