Marfori was always much disliked by people at Court. It was in the summer of 1867. Many courtiers and ladies of high rank were promenading in the beautiful gardens of La Granja. The soft, well-kept turf of the shady alleys by the countless sparkling fountains set off the beauty of the dresses, when, with his usual courtly grace, General Narvaez advanced to meet the Countess of Campo Alange. This illustrious lady, whose salons in Madrid were graced by the highest in the land, was soon to give a ball. “I have received your invitation,” said the General, after he had greeted the Countess. “It is almost the first that I have sent,” returned the lady. “I have just met Marfori,” said the Duke of Valencia, “and he tells me he has not received his.” “Neither will he,” replied the lady sharply. “And why, being a Minister?” queried the General in surprise, knowing how the slight to the Queen’s favourite would be resented at Court. “Simply because Cabinet Councils are not held at my house,” returned the lady caustically, firm in her decision to show her dislike of the man. General Narvaez, whose dapper figure and perfect dancing made him always a welcome guest at the Spanish Court, was still unmarried when he had to withdraw to Paris as an exile. He had always been fond of feminine society, but, gay butterfly as he was, he did not fix his affections upon any one lady. The beautiful Leocadia Zamora had been once the object of the officer’s attention, and, indeed, the charming way she accompanied herself on the harp fascinated other admirers beside the Count of Valencia. She was a constant visitor in the salons of the Countess of Montijo, where the lovely Eugénie shone with the brilliance and charm which were so soon to be transported to the Court of France. But fate did not reserve the joy of a happy marriage for the lovely Leocadia, and the sweet spirit, disillusioned by an unhappy love, retired to a convent in Oviedo, where she passed the rest of her life performing the duties of a Lady Abbess.