"Iwill, pleaseGod," answeredSancho, andthetworetiringtoonesideoftheroadsetthemselvestoobservecloselywhatallthesemovinglightsmightbe; andverysoonafterwardstheymadeoutsometwentyencamisados, allonhorseback, withlightedtorchesintheirhands, theawe-inspiringaspectofwhomcompletelyextinguishedthecourageofSancho, whobegantochatterwithhisteethlikeoneinthecoldfitofanague; andhisheartsankandhisteethchatteredstillmorewhentheyperceiveddistinctlythatbehindthemtherecamealittercoveredoverwithblackandfollowedbysixmoremountedfiguresinmourningdowntotheveryfeetoftheirmules—'sheart, andevenintohismaster's; and (saveinDonQuixote'scase) didso, forallSancho', whoseimaginationimmediatelyconjuredupallthistohimvividlyasoneoftheadventuresofhisbooks.
Hetookitintohisheadthatthelitterwasabieronwhichwasbornesomesorelywoundedorslainknight, toavengewhomwasataskreservedforhimalone; andwithoutanyfurtherreasoninghelaidhislanceinrest, fixedhimselffirmlyinhissaddle, andwithgallantspiritandbearingtookuphispositioninthemiddleoftheroadwheretheencamisadosmustofnecessitypass; andassoonashesawthemnearathandheraisedhisvoiceandsaid:
"Halt, knights, orwhosoeveryemaybe, andrendermeaccountofwhoyeare, whenceyecome, whereyego, whatitisyecarryuponthatbier, for, tojudgebyappearances, eitheryehavedonesomewrongorsomewronghasbeendonetoyou, anditisfittingandnecessarythatIshouldknow, eitherthatImaychastiseyoufortheevilyehavedone, orelsethatImayavengeyoufortheinjurythathasbeeninflicteduponyou."
