Sancho Panza came running out of Don Quixote's chamber in a terrible fright, crying out, "Help, help, good people, help my master! He is just now at it, tooth and nail, with that same giant, the Princess Micomicona's foe; I never saw a more dreadful battle in my born days. He has lent him such a sliver, that whip off went the giant's head, as round as a turnip."--"You are mad, Sancho," said the curate, interrupted in his reading; "is thy master such a devil of a hero, as to fight a giant at two thousand leagues' distance?" Upon this, they presently heard a noise and bustle in the chamber, and Don Quixote bawling out, "Stay, villain, robber, stay; since I have thee here, thy scimitar shall but little avail thee;" and with this, they heard him strike with his sword, with all his force, against the walls.--"Good folks," said Sancho, "my master does not want your hearkening; why do not you run in and help him? though I believe there's no need now, for sure the giant is by this time dead, and giving an account of his ill life: for I saw his blood run all about the house, and his head sailing in the middle on it; but such a head! it is bigger than any wine skin in Spain."--"Death and hell!" cries the innkeeper, "I will be cut like a cucumber, if this Don Quixote, or Don Devil, has not been hacking my wine skins that stood filled at his bed's head, and this coxcomb has taken the spilt liquor for blood." Then running with the whole company into the room, they found the poor knight in the most comical posture imaginable. He was standing in his shirt, and he wore on his head a little red greasy cast nightcap of the innkeeper's; he had wrapped one of the bed blankets about his left arm for a shield; and wielded his drawn sword in the right, laying about him pellmell; with now and then a start of some military expression, as if he had been really engaged with some giant. But the best jest of all, he was all this time fast asleep; for the thoughts of the adventure he had undertaken had so wrought on his imagination that his depraved fancy had in his sleep represented to him the kingdom Micomicon, and the giant; and dreaming that he was then fighting him, he assaulted the wine skins so desperately that he set the whole chamber afloat with good wine. The innkeeper, enraged to see the havoc, flew at Don Quixote with his fists; and had not Cardenio and the curate taken him off, he had proved a giant indeed against the knight. All this could not wake the poor knight, till the barber, throwing a bucket of cold water on him, wakened him from his sleep, though not from his dream.