a place of la Mancha, whose name I do not want to remember, there has not been much time that lived a hidalgo of the spears in shipyard, old adarga, skinny rock and greyhound corridor. A pot of something cower than ram, splashing the nights, duels and breaks on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, some stick of addition on Sundays, consumed all three parts of their farm. The rest of them concluded sayo to watch you, hairy coves for the holidays with their pamphles of the same thing, on weekdays he was honored with his hair of the finest. He had in his house a mistress who passed from the forties, and a niece who did not reach twenty, and a waiter of field and square, who thus saddled the rock as he took the pruning. He fried the age of our hidalgo at the age of fifty, was of reluctant complexion, dry of flesh, rinsing of face; great early riser and friend of the hunt. They mean that it had the nickname of Quijada or Quesada (that in this there is some difference in the authors who uncaught case write), although by credible conjectures it is understood that it is called Quijana; but this matters little to our story; it is sufficient that in the del narrative there is not a point of truth.