The King replied in terms which showed how great was his anger with the tale-bearer, and the dialogue between the royal brothers might have led to fatal results had not Doña Francisca intervened; and, as the influence which the Princess exerted over her brother-in-law was always of great weight, the painful scene ended with the wound to poor Isabel’s heart which never was healed. Deceived in her husband, the young Queen devoted herself assiduously to her baby daughter, and was never so happy as when she was doing everything herself for it; and when the little Infanta succumbed to an illness, Isabel’s grief was intense, and the King also was much affected at the death of his baby daughter. It was about this time that the serious discontent in the realm led to a plot which was to compass the assassination of the King. Don Vicente Richard was the chief conspirator, and as each participator in the plot knew of only two others concerned in it, and the triangular sections were all quite separate from each other, the names were never disclosed. When it was time to put the match to the train, some thought that it would be well to surprise the King in the house of a certain beautiful Andalusian lady called Pepa, so that the whole country should know that the perfidy of the King extended to his domestic life as well as to matters of public concern. But Richard’s two co-operators betrayed the plot to the palace, and although the conspirators met the fate which such actions invite, and the King spared neither time nor money in trying to find out their co-operators, no further information was discoverable. The Freemasons were at this time a great object of persecution on the part of the Inquisition. In a curious old book called “Narration of Don Juan Van Halem, Field-Marshal of the National Troops,” we have an account of a secret audience he had with Ferdinand for the purpose of making certain revelations to His Majesty on the subject. According to the account written by Halem himself, a certain Don Ramirez Arellano came into his cell at seven o’clock in the evening, when he was suffering imprisonment at the hand of the Inquisition, and told him that the King was graciously pleased to receive him, but warned him solemnly against any indiscretion. Halem wished to put on his uniform, with the stripes and decorations accorded to those who had followed Ferdinand to Valençay. But Arellano forbade it. “Nothing in the way of uniform,” he said--“nothing, nothing that may attract attention;” and he made him don his plain cap and jacket, and, accompanied by the alcalde and another man, they repaired to the palace. “We reached the gallery,” writes Van Halem, “by unfrequented stairways, and, opening a coloured window, which was a secret door, came to the King’s private room, commonly called the _camarilla_.