Her story of her marriage with the officer (which she told me herself) made a deep impression on me. She had been on a journey through the mountains near Madrid, and the altitude had given her a bleeding at the nose. The ladies-in-waiting had given her their handkerchiefs, and she had used all her own, but the bleeding still continued, and she turned to the officer of her escort riding beside her carriage and asked him for his handkerchief. She did not know him; she had never spoken to him before; but she was in such distress that when he gave her his handkerchief she passed all the others to him without knowing what she was doing. He kissed them and put them in his breast. Then the ladies said to themselves, “Ah, the poor officer! Now he will be sent away to Cuba or the Philippines!” And they were sorry for him, because he was a very handsome man and very well liked. Next morning he was summoned to a private audience with the Queen, and the ladies said, “The poor man! Why did he do it? What a mistake!” But when he came away from the audience he was not depressed, and it was understood that the Queen had reprimanded and forgiven him. He continued in attendance on her as an officer of the household, and it was not suspected until long afterwards that they had been secretly married. It seems incredible, but the Queen had several children by this marriage without it being known even to Court circles. She once opened Parliament a few hours after the birth of a child, going to the ceremony in a carriage, very weak, but determined to show herself to the people because a rumour of the birth had been circulated by her enemies. She was a woman of unconquerable will. When the truth of the marriage could no longer be concealed, and the people revolted, she left Spain with her husband, and was very happy, living near Havre with him and their children. She was a real grandmother to me, and my visits to her were always a delight. My father, who was the Infante Francisco, my mother’s first cousin, had been married to her for reasons of State; they had separated after the revolution; and he lived near us in Paris, or at Epinay, in an establishment of his own, where we children sometimes went to see him. He was a small, grey man, very silent, very formal, fond of books and solitude, and contented to be out of politics and affairs of Courts. There had been no sentiment in his marriage to my mother, and there was none in his relations with us children. My mother, too, was more a queen to us than a mother; and, as a girl, I knew nothing of the parental affections of a home. I think that may have been partly because my parents were quite old when I was born to them, so that the years separated us. But also it is one of the penalties of Royalty that their life cannot be intimate and fond.