My Grand Mistress suspects because I am so amiable--Pangs of jealousy--Every good-looking man pursued by women--A good story of my cousin, the d.u.c.h.ess Berri--We all go cycling together--The Vitzthums--Love making on the street--A mud bath.

_December 15, 1900._

When one is in love and loved a-plenty, weeks and months roll by without notice by the happy ones.

For my part I never thought there was so much happiness in the world as I am experiencing since the beginning of September. But I have my troubles, too. First, the Tisch. When a lady is well pleased by her lover, then her eyes are bright, her cheeks glow, her lips smile; she bears with her entourage; she is kind to her servants. The moment I treated the Tisch as a human being, she began to suspect, and I am sure she is eating her heart out fretting because G.o.d gave me both nuts and teeth to crack them.

But I am qualifying as an expert deceiver, and my Grand Mistress won't catch me in a hurry.

My other great trouble is: long separations from Henry, hours upon hours in daytime, half the nights.

What is he doing when he is not with me? Of course he pretends to tell, but I am not goose enough to suppose that he would incriminate himself for the love of truth. He is hiding things from me, perhaps cheating me.

I have to arm myself with all the faith loving woman commands to forestall occasional noisy out-breaks of jealousy.

Was there ever a good-looking man, women didn't try to capture and seduce? Manly beauty is the red rag that enthralls and excites women and renders them dishonest, though their honor doesn't lodge at the point they designate as its _habitat_.

Sometimes, when in these jealous frenzies, I wish Henry had a face like a Chinese kite, or like Riom, husband and lover of my ancestress, the d.u.c.h.ess du Berri.

She was "_satisfied_" with him, but since her lady-in-waiting, too, was, I might, after all, fare no better than Berri, if Henry was a toad, "his skin spotted like a serpent's, oily like a negro's, changeable like a chameleon, with a turned up nose and disproportionate mouth." Yet I hardly believe that, like my cousin, I would say anent a rival: "Whoever would not be satisfied with him, would be hard to please."

Alas, with women in love the extreme of ugliness counts as triumphantly as the charms of Adonis. Ever since I read certain pa.s.sages of Faust, part II, Eduard von Hartmann's "Philosophy of the Unconscious," and Lermontoff's "Hero of our Times," I am convinced that to love a man very good-looking, or, on the contrary, a perfect horror, is no sinecure.

Fortunately Henry is almost penniless.

DRESDEN, _January 2, 1901_.

Henry's sister married one of the numerous Vitzthums, of the family that furnished the Saxon court with t.i.tled servants and _maitresses en t.i.tre_ for the past several hundred years.

I immediately sent word to her ladyship, that having taken up bicycling, I would be pleased to have her attend me on the wheel on the afternoon following. The invitation was issued from the office of my Court Marshal, which is controlled by the King's. Having thus secured beforehand His Majesty's approval, possible criticism was nipped in the bud. The bride asked permission to bring her husband.

"Granted. Order of dress: _mufti_."

This enabled us, myself and Henry, and the Count and Countess to ride all over town, unrecognized by either officials or the public at large.

It was great fun, and I told the Vitzthums that I intended to wheel every morning at nine, immediately after breakfast. Count Vitzthum is Henry's colonel. Of course he granted both Henry and himself furlough for the time set.

What happiness! Now I don't have to wait till afternoon and evening to see my lover.

DRESDEN, _January 10, 1901_.

I am so happy, I am growing careless.

The Vitzthums, profiting by the fact that they are but recently married, prefer to travel in pairs, and always take the lead. Accordingly Henry and myself, incog. as far as my future subjects go, are free to indulge in occasional caresses and sweet nonsense-talk.

I was pouring honeyed words into Henry's ears the other morning when my wheel skidded on the wet pavement, and before he, or I, could save me, I was down on my back in the mud.

The fact that I was again _enceinte_, and the other fact that I was covered with dirt, ought to have prompted me to return to the palace at once, but how un-Louise-like the straight and sane course would have been.

I allowed myself to be wiped off by Henry; then mounted my wheel anew and raced after the Vitzthums.

Unfortunately, a reporter heard of the incident and, for the benefit of his pocket, made a column out of it.

A few hours after the story appeared in the evening paper, the palace was in an uproar. The King wasn't well enough to scold me, so he delegated that pleasant duty to Prince George. His Royal Highness promptly informed me that the "d.a.m.ned bicycling had to stop."

CHAPTER XLVI

FEARS FOR MY LOVE

Some reflections on queens of old who punished recreant lovers--Henry was in debt and I gave him money--Indignities by which some of that money was earned--Husband accompanies me to Loschwitz--Reflections on Frederick Augustus's character.

_January 15, 1901._

My love played the melancholy Dane for the last few days. His tenderness seemed labored, his spirits under a cloud. Every smile I got had to be coaxed from him.

"The end of my happiness," I thought; "some chit of a girl dethroned me." And I cursed my birthday. "A kingdom for ten years off my age."

And my thoughts of thoughts travelled back to the times when royal ladies had their rivals immured, as practiced by a Brandenburg princess at the Kaiser's hunting box at Grunewald, or made a head shorter, like Lady Jane Grey, who was far too pretty to please Elizabeth; or shot, as elected by Queen Christina, _tribade_ and nymphomaniac both.

And the things Queen Bess did to her unfaithfuls and the crimes Mary Stuart perpetrated to cheat Jeannie Bothwell out of her doughty Hepburn!

"If I were Queen," I thought, and I must have spoken aloud, for Henry said: "You would make me a great lord, love, wouldn't you, give me the best paying office at court, but that's small comfort to my creditors today."

"It's creditors, mere creditors bothering you?" I almost shouted with joy. This man was still mine. No one had succeeded in luring him away from me. I threw myself upon him and nearly smothered him.

Filthy lucre, or the want of it, oppressing my boy. Money, miserable money, caused me to doubt his very loyalty.

"How much?"

He stuttered and denied and swore it was all a mistake and that I had misunderstood him. "As an army officer----"

"Don't talk like Frederick Augustus. It will give me the greatest pleasure in the world to arrange your affairs, dearest."

I got him to name the sum after a while. What a pity I am not rich. As Catharine sent her Orloffs and Potemkins and Zoritchs to the State Treasury to help themselves as they saw fit, so I would gladly turn fortunes over to Henry, never asking for an accounting.

But this Imperial Highness is wretchedly poor, like most royal women not actually seated on the throne. I can't offer my paramour financial independence, not even luxury, but, thank heaven, I saved up enough to provide for his present needs, even if my treasury be drained to the last twenty-mark piece, and I will have to cut short my charities for the next quarter of a year. But he must not know these sordid details.

Some day I will be Queen. I will reimburse the poor and I will be a true Catharine to Henry.