"I do not know," said he, smiling cunningly at me, "whether I dare answer you." "Go on, go on," I said to him, "I can hear anything without being angry." "Well, the word _schuros_ means that, to our great shame, we have sometimes been governed by French kings. The sovereign, before assuming power, was bound to promise under oath to respect our freedom and to articulate in a loud voice the solemn words _lo Juro!_ As he did not know how to pronounce the J he said _schuro_. Are you satisfied, senor?" I answered him, "Yes, yes. I see that vanity and pride are not dead in this country." Since I have just spoken of a shepherd, I will say that in Spain, the class of individuals of both sexes destined to look after herds, appeared to me always less further removed than in France, from the pictures which the ancient poets have left us of the shepherds and shepherdesses in their pastoral poetry. The songs by which they endeavour to while away the tedium of their monotonous life, are more remarkable in their form and substance than in the other European nations to which I have had access. I never recollect without surprise, that being on a mountain situated at the junction-point of the kingdoms of Valencia, Aragon, and Catalonia, I was all at once overtaken by a violent storm, which forced me to take refuge in my tent, and to remain there squatting on the ground. When the storm was over and I came out from my retreat, I heard, to my great astonishment, on an isolated peak which looked down upon my station, a shepherdess who was singing a song of which I only recollect these eight lines, which will give an idea of the rest:-- * * * * * A los que amor no saben Ofreces las dulzuras Y a mi las amarguras Que s'e lo quo es amar. Las gracias al me certe Eran cuadro de flores Te cantaban amores Por hacerte callar. Oh! how much sap there is in this Spanish nation! What a pity that they will not make it yield fruit!