devoured the letter, it was not fitting that I--Armande-Louise-Marie
de Chaulieu--should read it.

The next day, at the Italian opera, he was at his post. But I feel
sure that, ex-prime minister of a constitutional government though he
is, he could not discover the slightest agitation of mind in any
movement of mine. I might have seen nothing and received nothing the
evening before. This was most satisfactory to me, but he looked very
sad. Poor man! in Spain it is so natural for love to come in at the
window!

During the interval, it seems, he came and walked in the passages.
This I learned from the chief secretary of the Spanish embassy, who
also told the story of a noble action of his.

As Duc de Soria he was to marry one of the richest heiresses in Spain,
the young princess Marie Heredia, whose wealth would have mitigated
the bitterness of exile. But it seems that Marie, disappointing the
wishes of the fathers, who had betrothed them in their earliest
childhood, loved the younger son of the house of Soria, to whom my
Felipe, gave her up. Allowing himself to be despoiled by the King of
Spain.

"He would perform this piece of heroism quite simply," I said to the
young man.

"You know him then?" was his ingenuous reply.

My mother smiled.