Free Lola Montez Conquers the Spaniards by Kit Brennan

shavings and ripped pieces of paper. “Underneath,” came the directive. Pushing the material aside, I tried to feel for the object he must wish me to see but he cried, “Wait!” He reached, himself, to pull a wad of the shavings away, and then . . . At first I thought I was looking at a pair of large toadstools or field mushrooms of some kind. I peered and again put out my hand. Just as I was about to lift one of the objects, I finally understood what I was seeing. It seems impossible to recognize such things out of their usual context, they simply will not fall into place in one’s mind because it seems so unlikely to see them lying in a box. They were a pair of large, filthy, human ears.
    â€œOh my God!” I gasped and recoiled, banging my head hard on the headboard.
    â€œ Cochons ! Murderers.” He sat down upon the bed, setting the box to one side. I was sure the soup was about to make a reappearance, but I closed my eyes and held up my hand to stop him from continuing while I struggled for control. He waited, and after some moments, I was able to open my eyes again. My thoughts in turmoil, I said, “What does it mean?”
    â€œIt means . . .” He took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows, then frowned mightily. “It means, without doubt, that Tristany is dead.”
    â€œAnd who . . . ?”
    â€œHe is—he was—your predecessor.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, predecessor?”
    â€œWhat it usually means, querida. The one who went before you.”
    â€œOh my God !” I cried again, this time more loudly and with even greater anxiety. I pulled my legs in under me and rose up on the mattress, exclaiming, “Is this why you haven’t—? Because all along, you knew—! That it was dangerous, full of bandits and terror and, and death!” I was on my feet now, flailing about. “And I’m just dispensable, just a stupid girl from another country and no one knows that I’m here, no one important, and so you think you can just—! But that’s not true! My member of Parliament knows, the 3rd Earl of Malmesbury knows that I’m here and he’ll send a dragoon—no, a platoon of dragoons!—to come and fetch me home as soon as he realizes that I’m—That I . . .” There was a logistical problem with this line of thought, but I couldn’t, at that precise moment, think what it might be.
    â€œAre you finished?”
    â€œNo!” I cried, but then unfortunately I fell down again due to the softness and unsteadiness of the mattress. The box hurtled to the floor and the ears spilled forth, their severed edges illuminated in the sunshine from the window. My teeth began to chatter again as I crawled back in under the covers, pulling them up to my trembling chin.
    â€œRosana, listen to me,” Grimaldi said. “This will not happen to you, not if you listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you.”
    â€œOh my God .”
    â€œThere are many plots in the Spanish court, although it is our fortune that Cristina is here in Paris. Her daughters, however, are not.They remain in Madrid, under the protection of the prime minister, General Espartero.”
    â€œBut . . . the ears?”
    â€œI am coming to that. The princesses, Isabel and Luisa Fernanda, are twelve and ten. Isabel will be queen as soon as she comes of age; heads of state and conspirators are already lining up the list of possible suitors for her hand. The Bourbon women mature quickly, so this happy event is expected in the very near future, for as soon as the girl is capable of being a mother, she is certainly capable of being queen and a wife. Hence Cristina’s anxiety—she wishes to return to Spain, to live once again in the court of her reigning daughter. But there are difficulties, not only in the undoubtedly tricky area of potential consorts. There is a new tutor.”
    â€œFor the girls? Why is that