He wondered to see the lance leaning against the tree, the shield on the ground, and Don Quixote in armour and dejected, with the saddest and most melancholy face that sadness itself could produce; and going up to him he said, "Be not so cast down, good man, for you have not fallen into the hands of any inhuman Busiris, but into Roque Guinart's, which are more merciful than cruel."
Admiróle ver lanza arrimada al árbol, escudo en el suelo, y a don Quijote armado y pensativo, con la más triste y melancólica figura que pudiera formar la misma tristeza. Llegóse a él diciéndole: