And he takes Sancho to witness of his straits, ere he sends him off to beseech mercy of Dulcinea.
Nor is he fooled by Sancho’s meeting with the lady.
He and Sancho have reached the mountains that bar the smooth plains of La Mancha from the fluid meadows of Andalusia southward: mountains of rock flung to sky, titanic gestures of rock, pourings of cosmic might into the waste of rock.
The Sierra, sudden beneath La Mancha, suggests delirious excess. There was the furious way of Roland after his Angelica had slept with the Moor Medoro.
Don Quixote is but the final name of the ingenuous knight of La Mancha.
In Chapter One of his book, it is set forth that he was known as Quijada, Quesada or Quejana.
It is clear that some day his madness will discomfit him entire.
At which time he will be forced to return to his poor house where the good nurse and the niece will staunch his wounds, bathe the dust from his eyes and put him to bed.
His fellow Spaniards, sick like himself of gestures and heroics, will roar along—will pay for the book—will put money in the purse of a hungry scribbler.
This Don Quixote, child of Cervantes, is the subject of the early chapters.