Obviously I agree with Dudley: «it becomes clear later that Luscinda is not a virgin. However he omits any reference to this is [sic] his own story. It is only one of the small but crucial dishonesties in his storytelling technique» (133). Dorotea specifically accepts them as having been wedded, presumably because Cardenio has told her so: «Tú tienes a tus pies a tu esposa», she says to Don Fernando in Palomeque's inn, «y la que quieres que lo sea está en los brazos de su marido» (I: 36). This interpretation appears to deny the «fear of intimacy» which Carroll B. Johnson posits (112) and Feal echoes ten years later: «Undoubtedly he fears the realization of his desire» (191).

Obviously I agree with Dudley: «it becomes clear later that Luscinda is not a virgin. However he omits any reference to this is [sic] his own story. It is only one of the small but crucial dishonesties in his storytelling technique» (133). Dorotea specifically accepts them as having been wedded, presumably because Cardenio has told her so: «Tú tienes a tus pies a tu esposa», she says to Don Fernando in Palomeque's inn, «y la que quieres que lo sea está en los brazos de su marido» (I: 36). This interpretation appears to deny the «fear of intimacy» which Carroll B. Johnson posits (112) and Feal echoes ten years later: «Undoubtedly he fears the realization of his desire» (191).

For the comedia, Gilman in «Inquisidores»: «Con calculada malicia y sin indicios obvios, Cervantes ha entretejido la complicada trama de una comedia de tema honroso con la ridícula vocación caballeresca de su hijastro» (132; see also Novel 160-61); Julio Rodríguez-Luis following Gilman: «es decididamente una novela de amores combatidos del tipo que caracteriza no ya la literatura pastoril, sino la comedia del Siglo de Oro» (107); and Anderson: «Cervantes, novelist and dramatist, gave the tale [...] the outline of a three-act play» (21; see his graphic presentation on 33). For the pastoral, Finello: «a bucolically devised fragment» created out of the «pathetic self-absorption» of a «madcap [??] lover» (114-15, 104, and 116). For the epistolary, Dudley: «we find the outline of an epistolary novel» (128). Gilman points out in «Cardenio» that «The literary source of Cardenio's madness is obvious, but Cervantes's acknowledgment of it is characteristically oblique» (343), and Juan Bautista Avalle-Arce tells us that Cardenio «considera a su vida personal como materia artística» (168), which is, in effect, what these pages trace. And the sentimental novel? Each of those sentimental romances which Patricia E. Grieve has studied «somehow implies real life versus fictional life or blurs the lines between them in order to confuse us, but also to remind us of the dual and occasionally indistinguishable duty of words to record both truth and fiction» (117); this sounds awfully pertinent here. For comments on Cardenio and Diego de San Pedro's Leriano in Cárcel de amor, see Dudley 131.

«Although Cardenio's wretched and antiheroic account of loss of nerve in a small-town Andalusian ambiance may seem antithetical to the only too justifiable fury of Orlando, a fantasy hero in a fantasy demesne, they do have one thing in common. Both are 'knights' who, having reason to believe their ladies have betrayed them, fail to live up to the exigencies of their knighthood» (Gilman, Novel 158; see also 156-57).

See the chapters on Dorotea, the cautivo, and Eugenio in my Not Necessarily Cervantes.

«Los amores de esta pareja tienen, desde un principio, un tono de blanda y almibarada quejumbre, traspuesto a un intercambio de artificiosos billetes y versos» (Márquez Villanueva 55). Dudley writes that Cardenio confesses that his relationship with Luscinda «has reached its warmest level since they have communicated by letter, because he is tongue-tied in her presence. His verbal inhibitions have, nevertheless, not placed any barrier in the way of their physical communications», the proof of which is Luscinda's lost virginity (133); it's hard to carry this as far as to call Cardenio «autistic» (idem).

The letter Quijote finds in the valise prompts him to propose to write to Dulcinea, a letter which will never be delivered, as the one to Luscinda apparently was not -a conscious Cervantine irony? Feal explicates the verse «el terrible dolor que adoro y siento»: «Cardenio adores his penance as much as his [p. 17] love; that is, he adores the penance that love procures for him» (179). In fine censoriousness Clemencín declares that this missive is «de lo más sutil, lamido y remilgado que puede verse; es decir, el más impropio en una persona a quien se supone agitada de pasiones vehementes» (1275, n. 29). For Gaos it imitates «el estilo alambicado que llegó a prevalecer en nuestra literatura barroca» (464, n. 137b); he recalls Márquez Villanueva's remark: Cardenio's poetic efforts «perfilan una personalidad creadora elegante y falta de nervio, que no puede hallarse más acorde con la naturaleza profunda del personaje» (58).

A recent argument for a legitimized union comes from Henry W. Sullivan, without consideration of consummation: their «match is contracted by their spoken promise. While the father of Luscinda is aware of Cardenio's honorable intentions, Cardenio's father does not give his consent»; the valid union «illustrates the basic tenet of [the Council of] Trent that the essence of matrimony is the mutual consent of the contracting parties» (161). The «promise» is implicit: «Sabían nuestros padres nuestros intentos, y no les pesaba dello, porque bien veían que, cuando pasaran adelante, no podían tener otro fin que el de casarnos, cosa que casi la concertaba la igualdad de nuestro linaje y riquezas» (I: 24). Had we access to the other letters and poems that were found, this apparent problem might shed its thorns.

Márquez Villanueva rightfully suggests that «los papeles están invertidos, que es Cardenio quien actúa como una damisela atolondrada y Dorotea quien hace cara al infortunio en actitud viril» (52).

«Cardenio, like Marcela, gradually comes to life in varying degrees, as do the storied shepherds of pastoral romances whose tales are based on accounts of acquaintances. It is then the reader's job to sort out the credible elements in the tale. This could mean [this does mean] that the storytellers [...] may be judged according to their own appreciation of fiction. When all is said and done, a character's credibility rests on how well he tells stories and acts out roles from them, roles with high artistic standards that are familiar to him and are observed carefully by his audience» (Finello 120, emphasis added). Is it meaningful that Pero Pérez is interrupted by Dorotea's voice and is thus prevented from making any critical comment on Cardenio's presentation, never mind providing the razones de consuelo?