"If one is right on the inside, it does not much matter what is on the outside," replied the woman. "When the heart is comfortable everything is bright to the eyes." "You do not weep as much as you used to do, Cunegunda," said the jester, looking at her thoughtfully. "Even the sight of me does not make you cry any more." "I control my tears for the sake of my young mistress, who weeps so much," returned Cunegunda with dignity. "You have some good points, I must say," replied the fool. The princess had now dried her eyes, and had drawn the folds of the mantilla closer about her face. "I want to go home," said she. "All of my ladies and gentlemen want to go home. They hate the restraint of the Spanish court; and I want to see my father." "This is the first time I have mentioned it," said the fool, "but I also want to go home. I want to see Max and I want to see that little wretch of an Antoine, and Pittacus, and Pandora." "And we will go," cried Marguerite, rising to her feet with a new light sparkling in her eyes. "I will write to the emperor, my father, at once, and we will set out at the earliest possible moment." And again did the daughter of Maximilian return to him, still only a princess, for it was destined that she should never wear the crown of a queen. But when she beheld her native land, and the handsome, kindly face of her father once more, she was as happy as one whose most ambitious dreams had been realized. Le Glorieux said, "At last we really have left Clotilde behind, and as Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y Escafusa says he never will go out of his native land again, we may safely conclude that Clotilde is a fixture in Spain." The jester was affectionately embraced by Antoine, who declared himself overjoyed to see his old friend again, but their master was disgusted to find that Pandora and Pittacus received him with their usual cold indifference. One day, in the following spring time, Marguerite said to Le Glorieux: "Cunegunda is once more suffering from migraine, and thinks that nothing will cure her but another pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Roch. She thinks that when she was there before she did not give enough time to her prayer, being in too great haste to leave; otherwise she would have been cured permanently. I am often depressed and weary, and I think the journey will benefit me. So I shall go with such of my household as I shall need." "It is a long journey to make for Cunegunda's sake," observed the jester. "Cunegunda has been one of my best friends throughout my life," replied the princess, "so why should I not strive to please her? But as I said before, it is not altogether upon her account that I want to go. I wish to be taken out of myself. The world is not so happy a place as it used to be." "Little Cousin, I do not often ask a favor of you, do I?" asked the fool. "No, Le Glorieux, a fact which would make me the more inclined to grant you one now."