It was ten o’clock on the morning of the thirtieth of August, 1724, when Tito, thoroughly instructed by that negative Power, entered the palace of San Ildefonso, and asked audience of Philip V., of whose position at that time we wish to remind the reader.
First Bourbon of Spain, nephew of Louis XIV., of France, he accepted the Spanish crown only when he had found it impossible to secure that of France. But princes were dying, uncles and cousins of his, who separated him from the throne of his native land; therefore, in order to place himself in readiness to occupy it, should his nephew, Louis XV., die (at that time very ill and but fourteen years of age), he abdicated, in favor of his son Louis I., and retired to San Ildefonso. At this stage the health of Louis XV. greatly improved, and Louis I. was suddenly taken so ill, that grave fears were entertained for his life. Couriers were kept in constant service between the Granja palace and Madrid, bringing Philip hourly bulletins concerning the condition of his son. The ambitious father, incited further by his celebrated second wife, Isabel Farnesio (much more ambitious than he), did not know what part to take in this hopeless and serious conflict. Would the throne of Spain be vacant before that of France? Should he declare his intention of reigning anew in Madrid, preparing himself to seize the heritage of his son? But should Louis I. not die? Would it not be a blunder to expose the depth of his perfidy to all Europe? Would not such action render useless his seven months of solitude? And would it not be to renounce forever the sweet hope of seating himself on the coveted throne of Saint Louis? What should he do? To hope, was only wasting precious time! He was hated by the Assembly, and denied all influence in affairs of State. To take but one step, might compromise his life’s ambition, and his name to posterity.
False Philip V! The temptations of the world assailed him in the desert, and he paid very dearly in those hours of doubt for the hypocrisy of his abdication!
Such was the condition of affairs when Tito presented himself before the scheming Philip as a courier bearing important tidings.
“What do you wish?” asked the king, without turning, when he heard him enter the chamber.
“Look at me, your majesty,” answered Tito, unabashed. “Do not fear that I may read your thoughts; they are no mystery to me.”
Philip turned quickly towards that man, whose voice, dry and cold as the truth it revealed, had frozen his heart’s blood; but his anger melted before the funereal smile of the Friend of Death.
He felt a superstitious terror on fixing his eyes on Tito’s; and raising a tremulous hand to the bell beside him, repeated his first question.