bed, tongue-tied, and unable to
offer her any civility. Altisidora seated herself on a chair at the head
of the bed, and, after a deep sigh, said to him in a feeble, soft voice,
"When women of rank and modest maidens trample honour under foot, and
give a loose to the tongue that breaks through every impediment,
publishing abroad the inmost secrets of their hearts, they are reduced to
sore extremities. Such a one am I, Senor Don Quixote of La Mancha,
crushed, conquered, love-smitten, but yet patient under suffering and
virtuous, and so much so that my heart broke with grief and I lost my
life. For the last two days I have been dead, slain by the thought of the
cruelty with which thou hast treated me, obdurate knight,

O harder thou than marble to my plaint;

or at least believed to be dead by all who saw me; and had it not been
that Love, taking pity on me, let my recovery rest upon the sufferings of
this good squire, there I should have remained in the other world."

"Love might very well have let it rest upon the sufferings of my ass, and
I should have been obliged to him," said Sancho. "But tell me,
senora--and may heaven send you a tenderer lover than my master-what did
you see in the other world? What goes on in hell? For of course that's
where one who dies in despair is bound for."

"To tell you the truth," said Altisidora, "I cannot have died outright,
for I did not go into hell; had I gone in, it is very certain I should
never have come out again, do what I might. The truth is, I came to the
gate, where some dozen or so of devils were playing tennis, all in
breeches and doublets, with falling collars trimmed with Flemish
bonelace, and ruffles of the same that served them for wristbands, with
four fingers' breadth of the arms exposed to make their hands look
longer; in their hands they held rackets of fire; but what amazed me
still more was that books, apparently full of wind and rubbish, served
them for tennis balls, a strange and marvellous thing; this, however, did
not astonish me so much as to observe that, although with players it is
usual for the winners to be glad and the losers sorry, there in that game
all were growling, all were snarling, and all were cursing one another."
"That's no wonder," said Sancho; "for devils, whether playing or not, can
never be content, win or lose."

"Very likely," said Altisidora; "but there is another thing that
surprises me too, I mean surprised me then, and that was th