“Señor, señor,” returned Godoy, “there is an immense distance between this humility to a mere slave of your family and changing your opinion of me. This I do beg of you to do; and as for the rest, I have only come for your good.”
“May God reward you!” replied the Prince. “You are the only one who can speak for me without any fear of compromising himself. Will you not dictate me a letter to my parents?”
“The best words you can write,” said Godoy, “are those from your own heart, and those I will take myself to your parents.”
The result of this advice was two letters. The first was addressed to the King:[1]
“Señor, dear Papa,
“I have done wrong, I have sinned against you as a King and as a father; but I repent, and now I offer you the most humble obedience. I ought to have done nothing without telling Your Majesty, but I was taken by surprise. I have revealed the culprits, and I entreat Your Majesty to pardon me for having lied the other day, and that you will permit your grateful son to kiss your royal feet.
“Ferdinand.”
[1] “History of Ferdinand VII.,” 1843.
The other missive ran thus:
“Señora, dear Mamma,