He carries it in his hand wherever he goes, day and night, in Spain, he and his wife.

Without Prim he cannot hope to stand.

But he will try.

We must do what we can." The carriage was making its careful way across the Puerta del Sol, which had been cleared by grape-shot more than once in Sarrion's recollection.
It looked now as if only artillery could set order there.
"Viva el Rey! viva Don Carlos!" a loafer shouted, and waved his hat in Sarrion's grim and smiling face.
"I do not understand," he said to Marcos, as they passed on, "why the good God gives the Bourbons so many chances." "I cannot understand why the Bourbons never take them," answered Marcos.
For he was not a pushing man, but one of those patient waiters on opportunity who appear at length quietly at the top, and look down with thoughtful eyes at those who struggle below.

The sweat and strife of some careers must tarnish the brightest lustre.
Father and son drove together to the apartment in a street high above the town, near the church of San Jose where the Sarrions lived when in Madrid, and there Sarrion gave Marcos further details of that strange adventure which Amedeo of Spain was about to begin.
In return Marcos vouchsafed a brief account of affairs in the valley of the Wolf.