As for the morals of the country, it is not in six weeks that a person can penetrate the character of a people, or the habits of any one class. Strangers, however, are apt to receive certain impressions on their first arrival; which wear off after a long stay. It struck me that, in Spain, women have the upper hand, and enjoy a greater degree of liberty than they do in France. The behaviour of the men towards them appeared to be very humble and submissive; they are most scrupulously exact and punctual in paying their addresses, and express their passion in verses of all kinds, rhymed, assonant, _sueltos_, and so on. From the moment they have laid their hearts at some beauty's feet, they are no longer allowed to dance with any one save their great-great-grandmothers. They may only converse with women of fifty years of age, whose ugliness is beyond the shadow of a doubt. They may no longer visit a house in which there is a young woman. A most assiduous visitor will suddenly disappear, and not return for six months or a year, because his mistress had prohibited him from frequenting the house. He is as welcome as if he had only left the evening before; no one takes the least offence. As far as any one can judge at first sight, I should say that the Spanish women are not fickle in love: the attachments they form frequently last for years. After a few evenings passed in any house, the various couples are easily made out and are visible to the naked eye. If the host wishes to see Madame ----, he must invite Mr. ----, and _vice versâ_. The husbands are admirably civilized, and equal the most good-natured Parisian husbands; they display none of that antique Spanish jealousy which has formed the subject of so many dramas and melodramas. But what completely does away with all illusion on the subject is that every one speaks French perfectly, and, thanks to some few _élégants_ who pass the winter in Paris, and go behind the scenes at the Opera, the most wretched ballet-girl and the most humble beauty are well known at Madrid. I found there, for instance, something that does not exist, perhaps, in any other place in the world: a passionate admirer of Mademoiselle Louise Fitzjames, whose name conducts us, by a natural transition, from the tertulia to the stage.