I believe it, she said. My troubles are bigger than you, but the better deal.

For Mary, life was a way to balance. In a dish misfortune fell, no one is exempt from this weight, but had to balance the spirit of placing in the opposite plate rather large, an ideal, a hope. She had found the necessary counterweight: the love of all that exists, the sacrifice for the similar self-denial at all times.

What did the prince to offset the shocks of fate? … Nothing. He was still living and in the years of peace, thinking only of him. It was still as they had been other men before the war sacase of selfish individualism, making flower again the virtues of solidarity and sacrifice. So that a simple obstacle to his desires, a broken heart, which can only disturb the life of a teenager, to be considered unfortunate … Ah, if I had a high ideal! If I thought less about it and more men!

They shook hands beside the gate.

– Goodbye, lady, ’said the prince, bowing.

Don Marcos to be present, had recognized the voice. It was the same in the afternoon of challenge, when he met the English with the two blind beautifully grave voice, which seemed to drip tears.

Toledo only appeared a few moments later, leaving the flag of the gardener, to meet the prince, who returned thoughtfully to his “villa”.

Lubimoff spoke to give an order with harshly.

‘I’m going to Paris … I want out tomorrow fixes necessary.

Then, set your eyes on the colonel continued, sweet voice:

‘I never come back here … I will sell Villa-Sirena.