Taking advantage of the light breeze, the remaining eleven balloons were loosed and shot up to a great height. Soon the whole fleet looked no larger than so many toy balloons. We watched them sail away over the palace of the King, where the young Queen was watching for them, forgetting perhaps for a moment her terror, as the balloons sailed over the palace, over the bare plains of Castile, towards the Guadarramas, and the grim Escorial, her last home.
In the Park of the Society of Aeronauts, there was a deal of jesting, as the toy balloons sent off by Engracia and a dozen other ladies, followed the real ones.
“They all behaved,” said Patsy, as we drove home after the race, “as if there were no such things as bombs; courage, it seems, is still an aristocratic virtue.”
The night of the reception at the palace was very dark. The sky looked like black velvet; the streets blazed with clusters, chains, pyramids of light. The Puerta del Sol was a sea of sparkling flames, that shone on triumphal arches, flags, flowers, and the entwined letters A and V.
The servants at the palace recognized Villegas. They did not even look at our invitation, but motioned us to pass with him through that door we knew so well from the outside. We found ourselves in a big shining hall at the foot of the escalara principal, a magnificent double staircase, guarded by fierce marble lions and fiercer halberdiers standing on each step, their halberds touching, making a line of flashing steel on either side, just as the Argentino described—a sight “well worth seeing indeed!” We lingered at the foot of the stair to watch some of the people pass up.
“Who is that?” I asked, as a lady of superb bearing walked slowly up the stair. “I think she is the most distinguished looking woman I have seen in Spain.”
“That is the Duquesa San Carlos,” said Engracia, who had just come in.
“And who is that?” A beautiful Saxon woman in white satin and rubies was passing.
“That is one of the English party, Lady Castlereagh.”
As each Grandee or Ambassador passed, the halberdiers saluted by striking the marble stair with their halberds. It had a fine effect, like a peal of thunder or a salvo of artillery. When we had seen a few of the King’s guests go up, we followed after them.