I shall tell them that I want to go home, but will they have me in Salzburg? Papa, of course, but if mother hears of my acquaintance with Heine, "who doesn't love Jesus,"--her own words,--she will undoubtedly side with Prince George against her daughter. It was Heine who wrote of one of her ancestors, King Louis of Bavaria: "As soon as the monkeys and kangaroos are converted to Christianity, they'll make King Louis their guardian saint, in proof of their perfect sanity." And you don't suppose for a moment that mamma forgets a thing like that. As to Nietzsche, he will give her no conscientious qualms, for I'm sure she never heard of the gentleman, but my going to the Gipsy Baron "where two princely mistresses are gyrating"--horrible!

I hear her say: "I think Prince George is most considerate sending our daughter to Loschwitz. She deserved to be put in a nunnery and made to kneel on unboiled peas three times a day." And when it comes to an _eclat_, even papa may have to abandon me. Emperor Francis Joseph holds the purse-strings; and papa always lives beyond his means and Francis Joseph, King Albert and Prince George are fast friends. If papa quarrelled with the two latter gentlemen, they would immediately denounce him to the Emperor. The rest can easily be guessed.

Sorry, but papa is no hero in his daughter's eyes.

CHAPTER XXII

"POOR RELATIONS" IN ROYAL HOUSES

Myself and Frederick Augustus quarrel and pound table--The Countess Cosel's golden vessel--Off to Brighton--Threat of a beating--I provoke shadows of divorce--King threatens force--More defiance on my part--I humble the King and am allowed to invite my brother Leopold.

VILLA LOSCHWITZ, _September 1, 1894_.

Father had to give in. He is the poor relation, and a poor relation in royal circles doesn't amount to more than one among well-to-do merchants and farmers. He has no rights that others need respect and if he shows backbone he is given to understand that the head of the family has other uses for the palace or hunting grounds lent him.

"I would love to have you with me in Salzburg," he wrote, "but, dear child, it's for your best to learn to obey. Do it for your old father's sake."

Still I wouldn't give in at once. "I won't go to Loschwitz," I declared.

And gave a dozen reasons besides the paramount one that I wouldn't go, because Prince George wanted me.

"I'm no trunk to be shipped hither and thither at someone's behest," I said.

Frederick Augustus took umbrage at the "someone," which he p.r.o.nounced _lese majeste_, and to emphasise the fact hit the table with a bang, whereupon I pounded the table twice: bang-bang!

It hurt my hand, and didn't do Frederick Augustus any good. Nor was the discussion advanced thereby. For the rest: an exchange of names and epithets that smacked of the kitchen rather than the _salon_.

"Too bad you exhaust all your energy with me," I said among other things, "while in the royal presence you act the docile lamb's tail."

He began prating about his character as an army officer again, and I reminded him that I wasn't the Countess Cosel.

"Who's that?" asked the big ignoramus.

"Never heard of the lady that refused to accompany Augustus to the Camp of Muhlberg unless he brought her a certain intimate golden vessel costing five thousand _Thalers_?"

"A loving cup?" asked my husband.

"If you like to call it so."

"But why did you say you are no Cosel?"

"I meant to imply that I am not a prisoner of state and don't want to be treated like one. Hence, since a visit to my parents would greatly embarra.s.s them, I decided to go to Brighton for the season."

"Brighton," he repeated, "and where will you get the spondulicks?"

"I saved up quite a bit of money. Guess I can manage the expense alright."

"Lip-music," cried Frederick Augustus in his polite way. "You have no idea what such a trip costs."

I a.s.sured him that I had made every inquiry and was able to meet all expenses. "We will go incog.," I added, "the babies and nurse and Lucretia. The Tisch woman shall have a furlough even before she asks for it."

"Is that so?" Frederick Augustus laughed brutally. "You seem to forget that you are subject to our house laws."

"And you seem to forget that I have a will of my own," I almost shouted.

Frederick Augustus jumped up. "Not another word on the subject," he commanded. "The incident is closed."

It suddenly occurred to me that Prince George had been talking once more to Frederick Augustus about the pugilistic performances of my mother.

Perhaps he was trying to pluck up courage to beat me, a diversion not altogether unknown in the House of Saxony, according to the Memoirs of the famous Baron Schweinichen, Court Marshal and _Chroniqueur_.

His diaries, covering a number of years, have many such entries as this: "His Royal Highness. .h.i.t the Princess a good one on the 'snout' by way of silencing her tongue." Doubtless George would be delighted to have me "shut up" by some such process, but Frederick Augustus lacks the sand.

When he was gone, I indicted a letter to the King, advising him in oily, malicious, yet eminently respectful language that, not wishing to figure as a prisoner of state, I had decided to spend the rest of the summer abroad with my children. At the same time I intimated that I was well aware of being in disgrace and being regarded with ill favor by the several members of the royal family.

"If it pleases your Majesty," I added, "I will relieve a most unhappy situation by giving back his liberty to Frederick Augustus. I'll promise not to oppose divorce, or allow my family to interfere."

This letter I sent to the King, sealing it with my personal arms, of which there is no duplicate at court. After that I sent three telegrams.

One to papa, announcing that I was going to Brighton; another to the Palace Hotel in Brighton; a third to the Minister of Railways, commanding that my saloon carriage be coupled to the Continental express night after next. I knew, of course, that the King would be informed of these messages in a twinkling.

I waited an hour for the Powers to move; as a rule it takes them a week or ten days. Exactly sixty-five minutes after sending my letter to the King, Frederick Augustus rode into the courtyard like a madman. He had been hurriedly summoned from the drill-grounds, I heard afterwards. He dismounted at the stairs leading to the King's apartments. Half an hour later, he slunk into my room, as serious as a corpse. There wasn't a trace of brutality in his voice as he said:

"A fine row you kicked up."

I didn't favor him by questions, but kept looking out of the window. He walked up and down for five or six minutes, boring his eyes into the corners of the room. Suddenly, at a safe distance, he delivered himself of the following:

"His Majesty interdicts your plans _in toto_. You will be conducted to Loschwitz tonight. Don't put yourself to the humiliation of trying to disobey. You are being watched."

"His Majesty's own words?"

"He refused to see me," answered Frederick Augustus, dejectedly. He acted as if p.r.o.nouncing his own death warrant. "Baumann told me." (This is the King's Secretary.)

I almost pitied the poor fellow, but I had to hold my own.

"My dear Frederick Augustus," I said, "you can tell Baumann from me that I won't go to Loschwitz tonight; that for the present I intend to stay here and that, if they force me, they'll need plenty of rope, for I will holler and kick and do all I can to attract attention."

Maybe Frederick Augustus wanted to say something in reply, but open his mouth was all he could manage. Seeing him so bamboozled, I continued: "It is decided, then, that I stay, but I give you fair warning that I will skip to England sooner or later. I don't want you to get into trouble, Frederick Augustus, therefore inform Baumann without delay."

Frederick Augustus got blue in the face. He seemed ready to jump on me, crush me between his cuira.s.sier fists. I held up my hand.

"Did Baumann tell you that I offered to accept divorce if it pleases the King?"

Frederick Augustus changed color. White as a ghost, he fixed his eyes upon mine, momentarily, and murmured: "Have we got to that point?"

He ran out of the room and a minute later was tearing up the stairs leading to the King's apartments. Lucretia says he returned within a quarter of an hour and tried my door. But I had locked myself in and refused to open. We didn't meet until dinner. Neither of us ate a bite, or said a word. Baumann was announced with the ice. He was all smiles, all devotion.