My two sisters having gone through their preparation for First Communion, my mother took them to Rome to receive the sacrament from the hands of the Pope. She took me, too; and, although I had not been prepared, the Pope gave me communion at the same time, saying that I was a “little angel,” because I had fair hair and blue eyes. When I returned to the convent and the nuns heard that I had received communion without the preparation, they were outraged. “Well, then,” I said, “isn’t your Pope infallible?” And this shocked and silenced them. Altogether, although I lost many recreation hours by having to do “impositions” as punishment for small rebellions, school failed to subdue me, and I kept a wilful freedom of mind. I had heard from the gossip of the household that my mother--who had no knowledge of the value of money--was spending so extravagantly that we should soon have nothing to live on. And this delighted me. I used to picture myself working hard to earn--perhaps by teaching languages or painting, of which I was very fond--and the joy of the thought was intense. My eldest sister suffered from headaches in school; she used to be sent often to the infirmary; and I would ask permission to go up to her and sit by her bedside, and tell her wonderful stories of my dreams for our future when we should be fighting for life. It seemed to me the happiest, the most exciting thing, to be in such a struggle, among people who had to work and make their way, always busy and interested in something, and never shut up in idleness to be bored. No Cinderella ever invented for herself stories of rescue by Prince Charming with more longing than I looked forward to my escape from the sort of life with which Cinderella was rewarded. And I still think that I was wiser than she. My grandmother, Queen Maria Cristina--the widow of Ferdinand VII. of Spain--was living in retirement in Normandy; she had lost her throne by marrying a Spanish officer of her escort; and she would tell me that she had never been so happy in Courts--never as happy as since she had been exiled with the man she loved. We went to visit her very often during our summers--a very clever old lady with a mind of her own--and I liked her the best of all my relatives.