The Dialogue of the Dogs

THE DECEITFUL MARRIAGE WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN SPANISH AS EL CASAMIENTO ENGAÑOSO; THE DIALOGUE OF THE DOGS WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN SPANISH AS EL COLOQUIO DE LOS PERROS. BOTH FIRST APPEARED IN NOVELAS EJEMPLARES IN 1613.

TRANSLATION © DAVID KIPEN 2008

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THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED
THE PAPERBACK EDITION AS FOLLOWS:

CERVANTES SAAVEDRA, MIGUEL DE, 1547–1616.
  [COLOQUIO DE LOS PERROS. ENGLISH]
  THE DIALOGUE OF THE DOGS / BY MIGUEL DE CERVANTES;
TRANSLATED BY DAVID KIPEN.
       P. CM.
  eISBN: 978-1-61219-252-9
  I. KIPEN, DAVID. II. CERVANTES SAAVEDRA, MIGUEL DE, 1547–1616. NOVELAS EJEMPLARES. ENGLISH. SE LECTIONS. III. TITLE.
  PQ6329.C613 2008
  863′.3—DC22
                                                                      2008009845

v3.1

FOR ISA

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

The Deceitful Marriage

The Dialogue of the Dogs

Other Titles in The Art of the Novella Series

THE DECEITFUL MARRIAGE

On the soldier’s face as he limped out of Resurrection Hospital, beyond Fieldsgate in Valladolid, a yellowish pallor had set in. He emerged leaning on the haft of his broadsword, and the weakness in his limbs showed anyone who saw him that, despite the chilly weather, he had spent twenty days sweating out what it had taken him but an hour to acquire.

He had just tottered through the gate of the city when he noticed an old friend approaching, whom he hadn’t seen these last six months. “What’s this then?” the friend asked, crossing himself as if he had seen a ghost. “Are you really Ensign Campuzano? Am I really seeing you around here? I thought you were in Flanders making free with your pikestaff, not hobbling along here with your cutlass for a walking stick. How pale and scrawny you look!”

“As to whether I’m here or someplace else, my fine Peralta, the fact that you see me now is a pretty good clue,” replied Campuzano. “As for your other questions, all I can tell you is that I’ve just come out of that hospital, where I’ve been confined for a while in godawful health—all brought on me by a woman I was reckless enough to make my wife.”

“You got married?” said Peralta.

“I did.”

“So suddenly? It must’ve been for love. That love is strong medicine, and often carries a strong chaser of regret.”

“How strong the medicine is, I couldn’t say,” answered the ensign. “All I know is, I wound up with a dose all right. My marriage poisoned me, body and soul—so much that it took forty sweatbaths to purge my body, and my soul still isn’t right. But forgive me if I’m not up to a long conversation in the street. I’ll gladly tell you my misadventures, which have got to be wilder and more wondrous than anything you ever heard in all your born days, but another time, when I’m back on the beam.”

“I won’t hear of it,” said Peralta, who was a scholar. “Come to my house, and we’ll scrape together a decent meal. I know there’s some stew, which is just the thing for a sick man. It’s barely enough for two, so my servant will just have to make do with a pie, but there should be a few slices of that fine ham from Rute left if your system can take it, plus, more than anything, my heartfelt hospitality—not just now, but any time you like.”

Campuzano took him up on the invitation, but first they stopped at the church of San Llorente and attended Mass. Then Peralta took his friend home, gave him dinner as promised, made clear it was a standing invitation, and finally asked him to share his story. Campuzano didn’t need much encouragement, and so it began:

“You remember, good master Peralta, how I kipped in this city with Captain Pedro de Herrera, who’s in Flanders now?”

“I remember it well,” said Peralta.

“Well, one day when we were finishing lunch in the Posada della Solana, where we were staying, two well-turned-out women came in with two ladies-in-waiting. One huddled with the Captain over by the window, and the other sat down in a chair by me. Her veil hung low and hid her face, save what I could see through the cloth. I implored her to do me the courtesy of revealing herself, but I got nowhere, and that only inflamed my desire to see her all the more.