measure of grace that is now denied it; and in the meantime do you, señor gossip, keep it shut up in your own quarters.”
“Very good,” said the barber; “and here come three together, the Araucana of Don Alonso de Ercilla, the Austriada of Juan Rufo, Justice of Cordova, and the Montserrate of Christobal de Virues, the Valencian poet.”
“These three books,” said the curate, “are the best that have been written in Castilian in heroic verse, and they may compare with the most famous of Italy; let them be preserved as the richest treasures of poetry that Spain possesses.”
The curate was tired and would not look into any more books, and so he decided that, “contents uncertified,” all the rest should be burned; but just then the barber held open one, called The Tears of Angelica .
“I should have shed tears myself,” said the curate when he heard the title, “had I ordered that book to be burned, for its author was one of the famous poets of the world, not to say of Spain, and was very happy in the translation of some of Ovid’s fables.”