Juan took the road to the court, and solicited a new audience with the emperor. Though he took it for certain that his majesty would send him to Old Nick if he did not throw him to him over the balcony, he found that his majesty was very ready to grant him an audience. “Sire, your majesty will pardon so many impertinences—” he stammered out, full of shame, when he drew near the emperor. “Why, man, don’t be ashamed and a fool,” interrupted his majesty kindly. “Well, how goes it in the Azure Palace?” “Beautifully, sire.” “And how is that little rib of yours, eh?” “Who—she? Oh! very well, under present circumstances.” “And content with her lot? Is it not so?” “Well, as for that, sire! Well, your majesty knows what the women are. Their mouths are like a certain place I wouldn’t mention before your majesty, always open, and there’s no getting at the bottom of it.” “Well, and what does the good Doña Ramona ask now?” “What, sire? But there—one is ashamed to say it.” “Go on, man; out with it, and don’t be bashful. To the man that saved my life I’d give anything, even the crown I wear.” “Well, then, sire! She wants to be a marchioness.” “A marchioness! Is that all? Then from this instant she is the Marchioness of Marville.” “Thank you, sire.” “Keep the thanks for your wife; and look into the dining‐room to see if there is anything to lay hands on. And when you go back you will find your wife already installed in the palace belonging to her title, for the Azure Palace is not good enough for marquises.” Juan passed into the dining‐room, and, after running the danger of bursting, he made his way for the palace of Marville. The palace of Marville was not such a very great wonder as its name might lead one to believe; but, for all that, one might very well pass his life in it! A crowd of footmen and porters received Juan at the gates of the palace, addressing him as my lord marquis; and Juan, for all his modesty, could not but feel a little inflated with such a reception and such a title. But there was nothing to hold the pride of his wife (though one might be as big as the bell of Toledo, under which one day there sat down seven tailors and a shoemaker) at hearing herself called by her maids lady marchioness here, and lady marchioness there. “Well, so you are at last content, wife?” said Juan to her. “Yes, of course, I am. And indeed it was very provoking to hear one’s self called Doña Ramona, short like, as though one were only the wife of the apothecary or the surgeon. You see the truth of what I have said; if one has only to open her mouth in order to be a marchioness, why shouldn’t she? Now you see that his majesty did not eat you for asking such a reasonable thing.” “Well, do you know, now, that it cost me something to ask it of him?” “Ah! get out of that; men are good for nothing.”