In consequence of his long absence from
Spain, he was wholly unacquainted with his route, and obliged to depend
on a guide; and the fidelity of a Spanish guide being as proverbial and
trust-worthy as Punic faith, towards evening Don Francisco found himself
just where the Princess Micomicona, in the romance of his countryman, is
said to have discovered Don Quixote,--“amid a labyrinth of rocks.” He
immediately dispatched his attendants in various directions, to discover
the track they were to pursue. The guide gallopped after as fast as his
wearied mule could go, and Don Francisco, looking round, after a long
delay on the part of his attendants, found himself completely alone. Neither the weather nor the prospect was calculated to raise his
spirits. The evening was very misty, unlike the brief and brilliant
twilight that precedes the nights of the favoured climates of the south. Heavy showers fell from time to time,--not incessant, but seeming like
the discharge of passing clouds, that were instantly succeeded by
others. Those clouds gathered blacker and deeper every moment, and hung
in fantastic wreaths over the stony mountains that formed a gloomy
perspective to the eye of the traveller. As the mists wandered over
them, they seemed to rise and fade, and shift their shapes and their
stations like the hills of Ubeda(3), as indistinct in form and as dim in
hue, as the atmospheric illusions which in that dreary and deceptive
light sometimes gave them the appearance of primeval mountains, and
sometimes that of fleecy and baseless clouds. (3) Vied Cervantes, spud Don Quixote DE Collins Obed. “Don Francisco at first dropt the reins on his mule’s neck, and uttered
sundry ejaculations to the Virgin. Finding this did no good,--that the
hills still seemed to wander before his bewildered eyes, and the mule,
on the other hand, remained immoveable, he bethought himself of calling
on a variety of saints, whose names the echoes of the hills returned
with the most perfect punctuality, but not one of whom happened just
then to be at leisure to attend to his petitions. Finding the case thus
desperate, Don Francisco struck spurs into his mule, and gallopped up a
rocky defile, where the hoofs of his beast struck fire at every step,
and their echo from the rocks of granite made the rider tremble, lest he
was pursued by banditti at every step he took. The mule, so provoked,
gallopped fiercely on, till the rider, weary as he was, and somewhat
incommoded by its speed, drew up the reins more tightly, at hearing the
steps of another rider close behind him. The mule paused instantly. Some
say that animals have a kind of instinct in discovering and recognizing
the approach of beings not of this world. However that may be, Don
Francisco’s mule stood as if its feet had been nailed to the road, till
the approach of the traveller set it once more into a gallop, on which,
as it appeared, the gallop of the pursuer, whose course seemed fleeter
than that of an earthly rider, gained fast, and in a few moments a
singular figure rode close beside Don Francisco. “He was not in a riding dress, but muffled from head to foot in a long
cloke, whose folds were so ample as almost to hide the flanks of his
beast. As soon as he was abreast with Aliaga, he removed that part of
the cloke which covered his head and shoulders, and, turning towards
him, disclosed the unwelcome countenance of his mysterious visitor the
preceding night. “We meet again, Senhor,” said the stranger, with his
peculiar smile, “and fortunately for you, I trust. Your guide has ridden
off with the money you advanced him for his services, and your servants
are ignorant of the roads, which, in this part of the country, are
singularly perplexed. If you will accept of me as your guide, you will,
I believe, have reason to congratulate yourself on our encounter.”

“Don Francisco, who felt that no choice was left, acquiesced in silence,
and rode on, not without reluctance, by the side of his strange
companion. The silence was at length broken, by the stranger’s pointing
out the village at which Aliaga proposed to pass the night, at no very
great distance, and at the same time noticing the approaching of his
servants, who were returning to their master, after having made a
similar discovery. These circumstances contributing to restore Aliaga’s
courage, he proceeded with some degree of confidence, and even began to
listen with interest to the conversation of the stranger; particularly
as he observed, that though the village was near, the windings of the
road were likely to retard their arrival for some hours. The interest
which had thus been excited, the stranger seemed resolved to improve to
the uttermost. He rapidly unfolded the stores of his rich and copiously
furnished mind; and, by skilfully blending his displays of general
knowledge with particular references to the oriental countries where
Aliaga had resided, their commerce, their customs, and their manners,
and with a perfect acquaintance with the most minute topics of
mercantile discourse,--he so far conciliated his fellow-traveller, that
the journey, begun in terror, ended in delight, and Aliaga heard with a
kind of pleasure, (not however unmixed with awful reminiscences), the
stranger announce his intention of passing the night at the same inn. “During the supper, the stranger redoubled his efforts, and confirmed
his success. He was indeed a man who could please when he pleased, and
whom. His powerful intellects, extensive knowledge, and accurate memory,
qualified him to render the hour of companionship delightful to all whom
genius could interest, or information amuse. He possessed a fund of
anecdotical history, and, from the fidelity of his paintings, always
appeared himself to have been an agent in the scenes he described. This
night, too, that the attractions of his conversation might want no
charm, and have no shade, he watchfully forbore those bursts of
passion,--those fierce explosions of misanthropy and malediction, and
that bitter and burning irony with which, at other times, he seemed to
delight to interrupt himself and confound his hearer. “The evening thus passed pleasurably; and it was not till supper was
removed, and the lamp placed on the table beside which the stranger and
he were seated alone, that the ghastly scene of the preceding night rose
like a vision before the eyes of Aliaga. He thought he saw the corse
lying in a corner of the room, and waving its dead hand, as if to beckon
him away from the society of the stranger. The vision passed away,--he
looked up,--they were alone. It was with the utmost effort of his mixed
politeness and fear, that he prepared himself to listen to the tale
which the stranger had frequently, amid their miscellaneous
conversation, alluded to, and showed an evident anxiety to relate. “These allusions were attended with unpleasant reminiscences to the
hearer,--but he saw that it was to be, and armed himself as he might
with courage to hear.