It is intriguing to ponder whether or not Cardenio knows that she knows he'll do nothing, and whether this might weigh on his conscience; after this moment he becomes, by his own admission, a fugitive from his failure to intervene, to do something. As Burton wrote, the force of «a galled conscience is as great a torment as can possibly happen, a still baking oven, [...] another hell». (458); the reader of the Quijote must decide whether this is a factor in the fashioning of his tale.

This point of view must presuppose that Cardenio did indeed say all that he says that he said... but of course he «knows» that she didn't hear it all, and if so, why did he keep on speaking? Some more draft revisions?

«Vivere nell' immaginazione: in Cervantes è in pratica un tema ricorrente, centrale ovviamente nelle figure di don Quijote e del licenciado Vidriera, ma ritrovabile anche, per esempio, nei pastorie innamorati che si refugiano nella solitudine agreste [...]» (Mariarosa Scaramuzza Vidoni 113).

Márquez Villanueva compares the love letters, giving a slight nod of favor to Luscinda's: «Vale más [...] que la requintada carta de quejas de Cardenio, pero se impone reconocer a la vez que no se trata sino de un buen ejercicio de pluma, de una joyuela de artesanía: frases ensambladas con ingenio algo redicho, conceptos moldeados muy en frío y sólo una nota briosa en su "sin ejecutarme en la honra", cuya medida fórmula deja adivinar cierto desplante de desgarro andaluz» (58-59, emphases added). I regard this as support for my perception of two people entertaining -titillating?- themselves and each other in belletristic exercises rather more than trading real emotional soul-searchings. Luscinda begs commitment, Cardenio begs off.

He states that «a mí se me trasluce que la fuerza de la imaginación de mis desgracias es tan intensa y puede tanto en mi perdición, que, sin que yo pueda ser parte a estorbarlo, vengo a quedar como piedra, falto de todo buen sentido y conocimiento [etc.]» (I: 27). He ends the tale by asking of his audience, with their «full knowledge» of what has transpired, «la amarga historia de mi desgracia: decidme si es tal, que pueda celebrarse con menos sentimientos que los que en mí habéis visto» and begs them save themselves the trouble of trying to «consolar un mal que de todo consuelo es incapaz».

«Cardenio demands that, for the sake of brevity [?], no one interrupt his story. Such reasoning becomes suspicious when we later witness how the Ragged One, in narrating his life, delves into superfluous details» (Feal 182). And as we are seeing, silence can be informative as well: «He reveals himself not only by what he says but by what he doesn't say» (Dudley 134).

When all four have been recognized, first Luscinda, then Dorotea speak (I: 36); only afterwards does Fernando say «Venciste, hermosa Dorotea, venciste [etc.]» and Cardenio comes forth, «que a las espaldas de don Fernando se había puesto porque no le conociese». Riquer correctly points out (377, n. 10) that this is an error, that the two had indeed seen each other, but Cardenio's «caution» of avoiding confrontation is as meaningful as the fact that Fernando ignores Cardenio after having seen him and does not let hold his grasp of Luscinda until Dorotea's plea has proven successful, i. e., it is in effect she who liberates Luscinda.

All references in this study to Don Quijote de la Mancha are from the Editorial Juventud's one-volume edition (Barcelona: 1955).

My «Cervantine Echoes in Early Pynchon» (Cervantes 8 [1988]: 47-58) may serve as an example.

Edward Mendelson, for instance, has stated that «Gravity's Rainbow is an encyclopedic narrative, and its companions in this most exclusive of literary categories are Cervantes' Don Quixote...» (161).