If, neglecting this grave examination, which is entirely foreign to our work, we occupy ourselves solely with the character and secret thoughts of the persons thus tied to one another, and whose private life has been ransacked in order to give a solution to the problem of the Man with the Iron Mask, we see that a very strong liking for France and for her King, on Anne of Austria’s part, was in accord with the necessities of policy. Contrary to what frequently happens in the case of royal marriages, the obligations imposed on the Infanta by her rank were not repugnant to the sentiments of the woman, and when she crossed the French frontier for the first time, she realized a hope long since conceived and dearly cherished in her heart. With only eight days between their births and at once betrothed to one another in public opinion, the Infanta and the Dauphin had been the object of the researches and predictions of all the astrologers of the time,[47] who proclaimed that, having come into the world under the same sign, they were destined to love each other, even though they might not be united. The Infanta had believed in this augury. She had early liked to hear the young King spoken of, she sought after his portraits, she preferred garments of French cut, she willingly wore ear-rings formed of fleurs-de-lis, and, the changes of the negotiation having for a moment fixed the choice of the two Governments on her sister Doña Maria,[48] Anne, then nine years old, declared, “that if it was to be thus, she was resolved to pass her life in a monastery without ever marrying.”[49] When, three years afterwards, the Duke de Mayenne, on quitting Madrid, whither he had come to sign the marriage contract of Anne and Louis XIII., asked the former what she wished him to say on her behalf to the King of France, she replied: “That I am extremely impatient to see him.” This answer having shocked the austere Countess d’Altamira, her governess, who exclaimed--“What! madam, what will the King of France think when M. de Mayenne tells him that you have made such a speech?”--the Infanta rejoined, “Madam, you have taught me that one should always be sincere; you should not be surprised then if I speak the truth.”[50] The two years which elapsed before her departure saw no change in these sentiments. The 9th November, 1615, she parted at Fontarabia from her father, Philip III., with less sorrow than he showed in allowing her at length to leave, and it was with pride and contentment that the new Queen, radiant with youth and beauty,[51] crossed the Bidassoa, on her way to Bordeaux, where the French court was stopping. What kind of husband was she about to meet there?