"In the midst of all this wealth we have seen something humble, something seemingly small, which nevertheless moved us deeply. It was in a dark alley of the lower town, in front of a little house so low that one could touch its roof with one's hand. An old woman, perhaps eighty years old, was decorating her hut. Her hands trembled with stiffness, her chest hygged with heaviness. She brought an image of the well-beloved King in front of her few windows, an image which might not have cost ten cents. Around it she hung a wreath of cut flowers and tinsel; under a strip of paper on which her waddling hand had written in almost illegible letters. Long live the King! On the other side a stone candlestick, to burn two small candles on it in the evening. This was the patriotic tribute of the poor decrepit widow! Perhaps such simplicity would make others smile; she snatched from us a tear of admiration and compassion..."