Don NicolÁs EstÉvanez was a good friend of mine. During my sojourns in
Paris, I met him every afternoon in the CafÉ de la Fleur in the
Boulevard St. Germain.

When I was writing The Last of the Romantics and Grotesque Tragedies, EstÉvanez furnished me with data and information concerning life in Paris under the Second Empire.

When I last saw him in the autumn of 1913, he made a practice of coming to the cafÉ with a paper scribbled over with notes, to assist his memory to recall the anecdotes which he had it in mind to tell.

I can see him now in the CafÉ de la Fleur, with his blue eyes, his long white beard, his cheeks, which were still rosy, his calm and always phlegmatic air.

Once he became much excited. Javier Bueno and I happened on him in a cafÉ on the Avenue d'Orleans, not far from the Lion de Belfort. Bueno asked some questions about the recent attempt by Moral to assassinate the King in Madrid, and EstÉvanez suddenly went to pieces. An anarchist told me afterwards that EstÉvanez had carried the bomb which was thrown by Morral in Madrid, from Paris to Barcelona, at which port he had taken ship for Cuba, by arrangement with the Duke of Bivona.

I believe this story to have been a pure fabrication, but I feel perfectly certain that EstÉvanez knew beforehand that the crime was to be attempted.