The next day the party reached the inn Sancho dreaded so much. There was no way of not going in. The innkeeper and his wife, their daughter and the maid Maritornes came out to greet them gladly, and Don Quixote received their welcome with a grave face.
He asked them to make him up a better bed than last time. The innkeeper’s wife shot back that if he paid better than last time she would give him a bed fit for a prince. He said he would, lies down in that same garret and falls asleep at once. His body was worn out, and his wits more worn out still.
He had barely shut the door when the innkeeper’s wife flew at the barber and seized him by the beard. “Enough now, give me back my tail. My husband’s comb has nowhere to hang and lies about on the floor, and I’m ashamed to death.”