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She is far more the daughter of her father Prince Rainier III of Monaco than of Grace Kelly of Philadelphia and Hollywood; the immigrant Kellys' struggle for social acceptance is beyond her ken. She can chaff the prostitutes that line Avenue Foch outside her parents' Paris apartment and even joke when one is dropped off by a customer: "I wonder how those girls keep their hairdos in such good shape." But she will not be bourgeois. Grace would like her to take a cooking course at Maxim's. Says Caroline: "We have slaves for that." Replies Grace gently: "Yes, darling, I am your slave."
Caroline is used to having her own way in her father's principality. Her own zoo used to prowl the palace in Monaco; one unfortunate nanny was pinned to the floor on arrival by a Rhodesian ridgeback. A baby lion playfully snapped at the heels of visiting celebrities until finally banished. "It was smelly," says Grace. Now Caroline is content with a couple of horses and her Yorkie, Tif-Tif; they are the safe kind of pet that a mother loves. But Caroline is only biding her time. As she suddenly informed Grace in the middle of a family spat, "I can fool you, Mother, I can fool you any time."
A time warp intervenes between 20th century Paris and Spain. The only swinging Carmen Ordóñez de Rivera, 21, does is from the ropes in her father's bullring. Then her stark beauty sparks into a dazzling smile, she starts to laugh and becomes a kid on a spree. Normally, Carmen, the elder daughter of one of Spain's greatest matadors, Antonio Ordóñez, is as poised as an infanta. Descended on both sides from bullfighters, she is an elegant young woman with a simpler joie de vivre than her contemporaries in such racy cities as London and New York. She is happy minding her 15-month-old son or supporting her husband Francisco de Rivera, also a matador, when he puts on his suit of lights to go out and fight—not so much for the money as for his honor. He is ranked as one of the five top bullfighters in Spain. Says Carmen loyally: "You can only respect a man who has the courage to go out day after day to fight a savage animal." Demure as she is, Carmen does not trust herself to watch Francisco in the ring. Suppose the crowd got surly and started shouting, pelting him with cushions. Carmen shakes her head sadly: "I have an aggressive temper, I would feel forced to shout back, and you can imagine what effect that would have on the public." Of course, she does not say what she would shout.