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&ot;to tell you the truth,&ot; said altisidora, &ot;i cannot have diedoutright, for i did not go to hell; had i gone , it is verycerta i should never have e out aga, do what i ight the truthis, i ca to the gate, where dozen or of devils wereplayg tennis, all breeches and doublets, with fallg llarstrid with fleish bonelace, and ruffles of the sa that servedthe for wristbands, with four frs&039; breadth of the ars exposed toake their hands look lonr; their hands they held rackets offire; but what aazed still ore was that books, apparently full ofd and rubbish, served the for tennis balls, a stran andarvello thg; this, however, did not astonish uch as toobserve that, although with players it is ual for the ners tobe glad and the losers rry, there that ga all were growlg,all were snarlg, and all were cursg one another&ot; &ot;that&039;s nowonder,&ot; said sancho; &ot;for devils, whether playg or not, can neverbe ntent, or lose&ot;
&ot;very likely,&ot; said altisidora; &ot;but there is another thg thatsurprises too, i an surprised then, and that was that noball outlasted the first throw or was of any e a send ti; and ias wonderful the nstant suession there was of books, new and oldto one of the, a brand-new, well-bound one, they gave such a strokethat they knocked the guts out of it and scattered the leaves about&039;look what book that is,&039; said one devil to another, and the otherreplied, &039;it is the &ot;send part of the history of don ixote of laan插,
