Monsignor Quixote Read Online Free PDF

– or the garagist – it’s not very often – their problems are usually very simple ones. Well, I trust to my instinct. I have no time to look their problems up in Jone.’
    â€˜Instinct must have a sound basis, monsignor – I’m sorry – father.’
    â€˜Oh yes, of course, a sound basis. Yes. But like my ancestor, perhaps I put my trust most in old books written before Jone was born.’
    â€˜But your ancestor’s books were only ones of chivalry, surely?’
    â€˜Well, perhaps mine – in their way – are of chivalry too. St John of the Cross, St Teresa, St Francis de Sales. And the Gospels, father. “Let us go up to Jerusalem and die with Him.” Don Quixote could not have put it better than St Thomas.’
    â€˜Oh, of course, one accepts the Gospels, naturally,’ Father Herrera said in the tone of one who surrenders a small and unimportant point to his adversary. ‘All the same, Jone on Moral Theology is very sound, very sound. What’s that you said, father?’
    â€˜Oh, nothing. A truism which I haven’t the right to use. I was going to add that another sound base is God’s love.’
    â€˜Of course, of course. But we mustn’t forget His justice either. You agree, monsignor?’
    â€˜Yes, well, yes, I suppose so.’
    â€˜Jone makes a very clear distinction between love and justice.’
    â€˜Did you take a secretarial course, father? After Salamanca, I mean.’
    â€˜Certainly. I can type and without boasting I can claim to be very good at shorthand.’
    Teresa put her head round the door. ‘Will you have a steak for lunch, father?’
    â€˜Two steaks, please, Teresa.’
    The sunlight flashed again on Father Herrera’s collar as he turned: the flash was like a helio signal sending what message? Father Quixote thought he had never before seen so clean a collar or indeed so clean a man. You would have thought, so smooth and white was his skin, that it had never required a razor. That comes from living so long in El Toboso, he told himself, I am a rough countryman. I live very, very far away from Salamanca.
    3
    The day of departure came at last. Rocinante had been passed by the garagist, though rather grudgingly, as fit to leave. ‘I can guarantee nothing,’ he said. ‘You should have turned her in five years ago. All the same she ought to get you as far as Madrid.’
    â€˜And back again, I hope,’ Father Quixote said.
    â€˜That is another matter.’
    The Mayor could hardly contain his impatience to be gone. He had no desire to see his successor installed. ‘A black Fascist, father. We shall soon be back in the days of Franco.’
    â€˜God rest his soul,’ Father Quixote added with a certain automatism.
    â€˜He had no soul. If such a thing exists.’
    Their luggage filled the boot of Rocinante and the back seat was given up to four cases of honest manchegan wine. ‘You can’t trust the wine in Madrid,’ the Mayor said. ‘Thanks to me we have at least an honest cooperative here.’
    â€˜Why should we go to Madrid?’ Father Quixote asked. ‘I remember I disliked the city a great deal when I was a student and I have never been back. Why not take the road to Cuenca? Cuenca, I am told, is a beautiful town and a great deal nearer to El Toboso. I don’t want to overtire Rocinante.’
    â€˜I doubt if you can buy purple socks in Cuenca.’
    â€˜Those purple socks! I refuse to buy purple socks. I can’t afford to waste money on purple socks, Sancho.’
    â€˜Your ancestor had a proper respect for the uniform of a knight errant, even though he had to put up with a barber’s basin for a helmet. You are a monsignor errant and you must wear purple socks.’
    â€˜They say my ancestor was mad. They will say the same of me. I will be brought back in disgrace. Indeed I must be a little mad, for I am mocked with