Three years after the death of the ex-King of Naples, another terrible misfortune occurred in the family. On the fourth of May, 1897, the French capital was the scene of a most frightful catastrophe. The ladies of the French aristocracy were holding a bazaar for charity, in a building which had been roughly and carelessly constructed, and lined with booths in which many prominent society women sold wares donated for the purpose. A kinematograph had also been installed to add to the entertainment. In the middle of the afternoon, when the crowd was greatest, a lamp attached to this suddenly burst, and in an instant the whole building was in flames. The exits were insufficient and hard to find, and scores of people perished. Among the most prominent of the workers was Sophie, Duchess d’Alençon, who was a devout Catholic and had devoted the latter years of her life almost entirely to charity. Witnesses of the scene of horror who escaped with their lives have told of the Duchess’s heroism in attempting to save others, forgetful of her own danger. One lady tried to carry her out by force; but she broke away, and dashing back into the flames, took her place in her own booth again, calmly assisting in getting the young girls into a place of safety. All that night it was hoped that she, too, had succeeded in making her escape. But the next day a wedding ring, bearing the name of Ferdinand d’Alençon, was found in the ruins and all hope of finding her alive was abandoned. Her body, burned beyond all recognition, was afterward identified by a dentist who had supplied her with some false teeth shortly before. Maria Sophia was in Neuilly at the time of the accident, and her appearance with the Duke d’Alençon, at the requiem mass held in memory of the dead in the Church of St. Philippe de Rule, was her last public appearance in the world. When the Empress Elizabeth, who fell by the hand of an assassin on the shore of Lake Geneva a year later, was laid away in the vault of the Capucins at Vienna, Maria Sophia was unable to be present. Only in spirit could she bid farewell to this favorite sister, under whose cold and reserved exterior had beaten a warm and loving heart. * * * * * * * * Many years have passed since the Rose of Starnberg Lake was planted at the foot of Vesuvius, many since Francis the Second’s tottering throne collapsed, burying the hopes of a lifetime. But time has treated Maria Sophia gently. If she has wept bitter tears, the world has seen no trace of them. Her smile is still that of the beautiful young Queen of Naples, and she has kept that youth of the heart that never fades. But what her thoughts are as she goes about among her pets, no one knows. Does she still see Gaeta at times behind its dark, receding cliffs? Perhaps, for it was there that she displayed for the first and only time the gifts with which Providence had endowed her, and the supreme moments of life one does not forget.