would naturally have got together a good theological library, and he was allowed to have some of his books in his prison-cell; it is but natural that most of his requests should be for theological works which would be of service in preparing his defence on technical points. Reading was his sole solace during his imprisonment, and it is noticeable that, whenever he asks for a book he speaks of it--not with the dry, meticulous precision of a bibliographer but--with all the caressing detail of a genuine book-lover. He indicates the sizes of the various works which he needs, describes their bindings, and mentions in what part of his monastery-cell they will be found. He wants a Vatable with gilt edges, bound in black; it should be found in a case for smaller volumes which lies on his writing-table. He asks for a Bible, printed by Plantin, bound in black leather and fastened with black silk ribbons. He demands a Biblical concordance which is in folio. This lies on a high shelf near the window.[168] He begs to have the works of St. Justin, which will be found in the shelves on the left as you enter his monastery-cell. But not all his requests are for theological works. A true son of the Renaissance, he finds entertainment or instruction in communing with the best of antiquity. When in this mood he asks for his Aristotle bound in sheep's-skin; it will be found in the shelves on the right as you enter the monastery-cell. He would like a Horace and a Virgil--of which there are a great many ('_de que hay hartos_'), so that he does not particularize. He wants his Homer (in Greek and Latin) bound in sheep's-skin, and with red edges; it will be found in the shelves where the works of St. Justin are.[169] Again, besides the works of St. Leo, bound in parchment, he asks for his Sophocles in black calf; for a Pindar (in Greek and Latin), bound partly in black leather, with gilt edges; and for _Le prose dil Bembo_, a volume in small quarto with a parchment binding.[170] This throws light on Luis de Leon's progress as a linguist. An imprisoned man who asks for an Italian book to becalm his fever may be safely presumed to know that language. In or about 1569 when Arias Montano read aloud the anonymous Italian work which disturbed Zúñiga's scrupulous conscience, Luis de Leon, though of course able to catch the author's drift, did not really know Italian at that time.[171] This deficiency had been made good, as he gives us to understand, previous to March 12, 1573--twenty eight months, or more, before Luis de Leon asked that his copy of _Le prose dil Bembo_ should be given to him in prison.