“Don Antonio, the dear good old soul, was at first much admired and venerated by every one around him, for the assiduity with which he visited the library of the château. Many and long, indeed, were the hours he spent there, much to the edification of those who, beholding the utter ignorance in which the princes had been brought up, began to hope that so much study and meditation on the part of the tutor would in good time turn to profit and improvement for his pupils. But alas! soon were the fond believers undeceived. The good old man suddenly ceased his visits to the library, and, on being questioned by the Princess de Benevent as to this sudden alteration in his mode of passing his time, he replied, with composure, “Thank God, my work is over, and I can smoke my cigaretto in the shade beneath the piazza, without the fear that the morals of my pupils may be corrupted by those naughty books.” “‘Nay,’ replied the princess, ‘if your Excellency had but pointed out which were those you thought objectionable, I would have had them removed; my servants should have done it long ago, and saved you all this trouble.’ “‘Oh, do not mention trouble,’ replied the Don, with calm politeness; ‘besides, removing the books would have spoilt your library. It was only the vile Latin authors whom I dreaded; but fortunately, neither Don Ferdinand nor his brother can read them, and the engravings were soon removed by my care and trouble. I promise you, madame, not one remains, in all those books the Prince de Benevent pointed out to me as being those most studied by the youth of this country.’ “Judge of the dismay of the princess on hearing these words. Instant search was made among the volumes of which he spoke, some of the most rare and valuable editions in the whole collection. It was too true. The pious Don, in terror for the morals of his pupils, had taken the pains to tear out the beautiful engravings, which in many cases formed the chief value of the books. Every one the least objectionable was gone. The beautiful Ovid, the magnificent Strasburg Bible, and many others of equal value, were stripped, and may be seen to this day, as positive proofs of the _ignorance crasse_ in which the royal family of Spain were at that time reared. “The ignorance of Don Ferdinand would have been remarkable even in a convent of Spanish friars. He _could_ read, indeed, but made it his boast that he never did so, having a ‘valet in his service who understood all the mysteries of science.’ This was _verbatim_ his own expression. He was of quiet and taciturn habits, however, and loved to spend his time in cutting out with scissors divers little devices, with which he enclosed the _bon-bons_ he loved to present to the ladies of the princess’s court. He was fond, too, of searching in books; but it was soon discovered that Don Antonio’s alarm was but too well founded; the royal youth loved books for the sake of the ‘pretty pictures’ they contained, and nothing more.