But it was all a mystery. Here we are, And there we go:--but _where_? five bits of lead, Or three, or two, or one, send very far! And is this blood, then, formed but to be shed? Can every element our elements mar? And Air--Earth--Water--Fire live--and we dead? _We_, whose minds comprehend all things? No more; But let us to the story as before. XL. The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat, Embarked himself and them, and off they went thence As fast as oars could pull and water float; They looked like persons being led to sentence, Wondering what next, till the caique[280] was brought Up in a little creek below a wall O'ertopped with cypresses, dark-green and tall. XLI. Here their conductor tapping at the wicket Of a small iron door, 't was opened, and He led them onward, first through a low thicket Flanked by large groves, which towered on either hand: They almost lost their way, and had to pick it-- For night was closing ere they came to land. The eunuch made a sign to those on board, Who rowed off, leaving them without a word. XLII. As they were plodding on their winding way Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth: (Of which I might have a good deal to say, There being no such profusion in the North Of oriental plants, _et cetera_, But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in _their_ works, Because _one_ poet travelled 'mongst the Turks:)[281] XLIII. As they were threading on their way, there came Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he Whispered to his companion:--'t was the same Which might have then occurred to you or me. "Methinks,"--said he,--"it would be no great shame If we should strike a stroke to set us free; Let's knock that old black fellow on the head, And march away--'t were easier done than said." XLIV. "Yes," said the other, "and when done, what then? _How_ get out? how the devil got we in? And when we once were fairly out, and when From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin,[282][ez] To-morrow'd see us in some other den, And worse off than we hitherto have been; Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take, Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak. XLV. "We must be near some place of man's abode;-- For the old negro's confidence in creeping, With his two captives, by so queer a road, Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping; A single cry would bring them all abroad: 'T is better therefore looking before leaping-- And there, you see, this turn has brought us through, By Jove, a noble palace!--lighted too."