"You're right, Sancho," said Don Quijote, "because this painter reminds me of Orbaneja, from Úbeda, because when they asked him what he was painting, he'd answer: 'Whatever comes out,' so if by chance he painted a rooster, he'd write underneath it: 'This is a rooster,' so no one would think it was a fox. I feel the same way, Sancho, about the painter, or writer (and they amount to the same thing), who gave the world this new Don Quijote who's going around: the man must have just painted or written whatever came out, or else he was like a poet named Mauléon, who used to be at Court and, when they asked him a question, he'd answer anything that came into his head, and someone asked him what Deum de Deo [God from God] meant, and he answered: 'Let him hit me anywhere he can' [Dé donde diere]. But leaving that subject, Sancho, tell me: do you plan on giving yourself another whipping tonight, and if so, do you prefer doing it inside or out in the open air?"
"By God, sir," answered Sancho, "for what I plan on giving myself, I can manage inside or out — but, just the same, I think I'd rather do it where there are trees, because they kind of keep me company, and they really help me bear the pain."
"Well, we can't hurry things like that, Sancho my friend," said Don Quijote, "because you have to get yourself strong again, so it will have to keep until we get home, because we'll be there, at the latest, the day after tomorrow. "
Sancho answered that it was entirely up to his master, but he himself would prefer to get the whole business over and done with, while his blood was still up and he was ripe for the picking, because there was always a risk in waiting, and 'Man proposes, but God disposes', and 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush', and 'one of "I'll take that" is worth two of "I'll give you" '."
"No more proverbs, Sancho, please, in the name of God," said Don Quijote. "You seem to be sicut erat [returning to what you were]; just speak straightforwardly, plainly, and don't complicate things, because as I've often told you, and you'll find out it's true, 'one good loaf of bread is worth a hundred fancy cakes'."
"I don't understand why I'm like that," replied Sancho, "because I can't say anything without using proverbs, and every proverb I think of seems to me right on target — but I'll try to do better, if I can."
And, for the moment, that was the end of their conversation.
— how Don Quijote and Sancho came home
Don Quijote and Sancho spent the entire day right where they were, and in the same inn, waiting for nightfall, the one so he could finish, out in the open air, the flogging he'd begun, and the other longing to see the same task completed, for it was his heart's very desire. A traveller on horseback arrived at the inn, accompanied by three or four servants, one of whom said to his master: