I went, next morning, defiantly, and in such excitement that I confessed in a voice that could be heard by every one near the confessional. I had committed a mortal sin! I had been kissed by the archduke! And the manner in which I blurted it out was so funny that the priest burst out laughing. I asked him how it could be a sin to be kissed by the man who was going to marry me. He replied, teasing me, “But if you don’t marry him, still the kiss will remain.” “I don’t care,” I said; “it won’t show.” He assured me, finally, that it was not a sin at all; and perhaps I should have been crestfallen if it were not that I had triumphed over the others. Then, as the story got about, it started a reputation for me as a flirt, which I enjoyed innocently. An Infanta of Spain kissed by a man at fifteen! It was almost a record. When the archduke went away we were allowed to write to each other, though, of course, our letters had to be read by some one. I gave mine to my brother, but I do not suppose he ever glanced at them; the letters of a girl of fifteen, in such circumstances, would not be very interesting. I began to ask questions about the Austrian Court, where I should have to live after I married; and the reports I heard of it were not reassuring. The etiquette was most strict. I should be worse off there than in Madrid. And I should be separated from my brother. Very soon I did not like the thought of my engagement at all. My brother had told us, at our first meeting on our return to Spain, that he was in love with a daughter of the Duc de Montpensier; that they had been corresponding unknown to her family--who were not so strict as ours--and that he intended to marry her. My mother was outraged at this announcement, for it was well known that the Duc de Montpensier had helped to bring about the revolution that had lost her the throne. When we went to Sevilla, to live in the Alcazar, she forgave the Duc, who had a place in Sevilla, but she continued to intrigue against my brother’s marriage; and it was because of this that he quarrelled with her, and let her go back to France when we Infantas came to live with him in Madrid. The Duc de Montpensier was the youngest son of King Louis Philippe of France, and--like all that king’s sons--extremely clever. He had married my mother’s sister, another daughter of King Ferdinand VII., on the same day that my parents married; and he had lived in Spain ever since. In Sevilla my sisters and I became very friendly with our young cousins, the Duc’s children, and I became like another daughter to the Duc, whom I adored. He had all the charm of the _esprit Français_, animated and witty, accustomed to conversation with clever people, tolerant of opinions opposed to his own, and hating--more than anything else in the world--stupidity. He delighted me. He sympathised with me. I used to tell him all my little troubles.