Prevod
To prove that Archbishop Loayza had a mischievous streak, the chronicles tell of an exceedingly miserly cleric in Lima whose cassock, cloak, clerical collar, and hat were so threadbare that for years they had been crying out for immediate replacement. In a miser’s chest, the devil makes his nest, as the saying goes.
His Grace, who insisted on seeing his clergy decently dressed, summoned him one day and said, “Father Godoy, I find myself in need of something, and I should like you to lend me a small bar of silver.”
The cleric, who aspired to a canonry, replied without hesitation, “That, and anything more Your Grace may need, is at your disposal.” “Thank you. For the present, the little bar will suffice, and Ribera, my steward, will fetch it this afternoon.”
The miser took his leave, delighted to have done Lord Loayza a service, and already envisioning, by way of interest, no less than the canonry of cathedral preacher.
Eight days later, Ribera returned to Father Godoy’s house with a parcel under his arm and said, “His Grace sends you these garments.”
The parcel contained a cassock of silk camlet, a cloak of Segovia broadcloth, a pair of shoes with gilded buckles, a horsehair clerical collar, and a vicuña-fur hat.
Father Godoy jumped for joy, put on the splendid new garments, and made his way to the archbishop’s palace to thank the man who had outfitted him so generously, supposing this to be a gift or gracious gesture from the prelate in gratitude for the loan.
“You have nothing to thank me for, Father Godoy,” the archbishop told him. “See my steward, so that he may return whatever remains of the little silver bar; for since you took no care of your clothing, doubtless because you had no time to think of such a frivolity, I undertook to buy it for you with your own money. Go with God and my blessing.”
The priest withdrew in a sulk, went to Ribera, settled accounts with him, and discovered that the camlet and broadcloth had cost a fortune, for the steward had paid without haggling.
The next day, after reckoning and reckoning until he had convinced himself that two or three duros might have been saved on the outfit, Godoy returned to the archbishop and said:
“I have come to ask Your Grace a favor.” “Speak, Father, and you shall have whatever your heart desires.” “Well then, Your Grace, I beg you never again to take the trouble of dressing me.”
