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"Did I not tell your worship," he reproached the prostrate knight, "that they were not armies, but droves of sheep!" But again our hero blamed his misfortune on his arch-enemy, that cursed Sage Friston, who had falsified the armies in such a way that they looked like meek and harmless sheep.
"Hush, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "the fortunes of war more than any other are liable to frequent fluctuations; and moreover I think, and it is the truth, that that same sage Friston who carried off my study and books, has turned these giants into mills in order to rob me of the glory of vanquishing them, such is the enmity he bears me; but in the end his wicked arts will avail but little against my good sword."
"He must have said Friston," said Don Quixote. "I don't know whether he called himself Friston or Friton," said the housekeeper, "I only know that his name ended with 'ton."
A Downland road can be taken from here to Friston, Eastdean and Eastbourne, saving some miles of up and down walking, but the most enjoyable though more strenuous route is by the cliff path from Cuckmere Haven over the "Seven Sisters" cliffs to Beachy Head; a glorious six miles with the sea on one side and the Downs on the other, culminating in the finest headland on the south coast, 575 feet high, the magnificent end of the Downs in the sea.
And then he added his suspicion that the same Sage Friston, the magician who had carried off his room of books, had turned the giants into windmills so that he would be unable to boast of having conquered them all out of sheer envy and thirst for vengeance. What he most bewailed, however, was the loss of his lance.
"He must have said Friston," said Don Quixote. "I don't know whether he called himself Friston or Friton," said the housekeeper, "I only know that his name ended with 'ton."
"Only Black Diamond," grumbled the deep voice. "Meek as milk with him." There was a grim chuckle all round. "Are they smugglers?" asked the boy. "Call emselves smugglers," replied Reuben. "But they ain't the gentlemen proper. For it's mighty little smuggling they do. Maybe run a cargo every now and then to keep in with the folk on the hill East-dean and Friston way.
The niece's explanation of the magic was heartily approved of by Don Quixote. The only doubt he expressed was about the identity of the magician. "He must have said Friston," he insisted. The housekeeper here came to the niece's aid and stated that she did not know whether he had said "Friston" or "Friton" or what he had said; but one thing she was sure of was that his name ended with "ton."
"Hush, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "the fortunes of war more than any other are liable to frequent fluctuations; and moreover I think, and it is the truth, that that same sage Friston who carried off my study and books, has turned these giants into mills in order to rob me of the glory of vanquishing them, such is the enmity he bears me; but in the end his wicked arts will avail but little against my good sword."
For of this I am sure, that the enchanter Friston, who robbed me of my books, has changed these knights into windmills to rob me of my glory also. But in the end, his black arts will have little power against my keen blade! 'I pray that it may be so, said Sancho, as he still held the stirrup for his master, when he struggled, not without pain, to mount Rozinante.
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