Sancho and his master now rode with the gentleman in green to his house, where they stopped some days, to the great contentment of Sancho.  And of the wedding at which they were present, of the feast where Sancho so greatly enjoyed himself, as well as of other matters, you must read for yourself.

When the Knight and his squire again began their travels, it chanced that they stopped one night at an inn.  To this inn, while Don Quixote was outside, waiting for supper, there came a man, all dressed in chamois leather, and wearing over his left eye, and part of his face, a green patch.

“Have you any lodgings, landlord?” he cried in a loud voice; “for here comes the fortune-telling ape, and the great puppet-show of Melisendra’s Deliverance.”

“Why, bless me!” cried the innkeeper, “if here isn’t Master Peter.  Now we shall have a merry night of it.  You are welcome, with all my heart.  Where is the ape, Peter?”

“Coming presently,” said Master Peter.  “I only came on before to see if lodgings were to be had.”

“Lodgings!” cried the landlord.  “Why, I’d turn out the Duke of Alva himself rather than you should want room.  Bring on the monkey and the show, for I have guests in the inn to-night who will pay well to see the performance.”

“That’s good news,” said Peter, going off to hurry up his cart.

“Who is this Peter?” asked Don Quixote.

“Why, sir,” answered the landlord, “he has been going about the country this long time with his play of Melisendra and Don Gayferos, one of the very best shows that ever was seen.  Then he has the cleverest ape in the world.  You have only to ask it a question and it will jump on its master’s shoulder and whisper the answer in his ear, and then Master Peter will tell you what it says.  It’s true, he isn’t always right, but he so often hits the nail on the head that we sometimes think Satan is in him.”

Don Quixote no sooner saw the ape, than he marched up to it, and asked a question.

“Ah!” said Master Peter, “the animal can’t tell what is going to happen; only what has already happened.”

“I wouldn’t give a brass centesimo,” cried Sancho, “to know what is past.  Who can tell that better than myself?  Tell me what my wife Teresa is doing at home just now.”

Master Peter tapped his shoulder:  the ape at once sprang on to it, and putting its head at his ear, began to chatter—­as apes do—­for a minute.  Then it skipped down again, and immediately Master Peter ran to Don Quixote and fell on his knees before him.

“O glorious restorer of knight-errantry!” he cried, “who can say enough in praise of the great Don Quixote de la Mancha, the righter of wrongs, the comfort of the afflicted and unhappy?”

Don Quixote was amazed at these words, for he was certain that he was unknown to any one at the inn.  He did not guess that Master Peter was a clever rogue, who, before giving a performance, always made it his business to find out about those who were likely to be looking on.