It was more than I could stand and I burst into tears. In moments like this women always cry, but even if I hadn't felt like doing so, I would have cried because George hates it.

"Prove to me, prove to the King that you are sorry for what you have done, return to the path of righteousness, to G.o.d, and we will see about the children," he whispered as he moved away.

"What does he know?" "How much have they found out?" I kept saying to myself as I withdrew to my lonely apartments.

PILLNITZ, _May 24, 1901_.

No answer to the questions in my last entry. The silent persecution continues unabated. I am growing desperate.

PILLNITZ, _May 25, 1901_.

This morning at eight-thirty I went to the nursery.

The Baroness tried to speak to me. I held up my hand. "Not a word from you, or something terrible will happen."

_Fraulein_ von Schoenberg, who is really a sweet girl, offered some respectful advice. I begged her to be silent. If the door had been locked I would have forced it with the dagger I carried in my bosom.

Lucretia came and whispered. "I have decided to stay, and stay I will.

Let them do their worst if they dare," I told her.

I changed the children's _curriculum_. "You can drive every day; you can't have mother every day. Let's have some games."

I remained in the nursery till all the children were asleep. They partook of the breakfast, lunch and dinner I ordered for myself. A great treat for them. We were very happy.

But I waited in vain for interference. Nothing happened to clear the situation. Those questions were still unanswered when I returned to my apartments.

I had just sat down to read the evening papers, when Prince George entered unannounced.

"If ever again you dare disobey my commands"--he shouted without preliminaries.

I cut him short: "Are the children yours or mine?"

"They belong to Saxony, to the Royal House," he bawled, and poured forth a torrent of abuse without giving me a chance to put in a word.

"You shall be disciplined to the last extremity. We will imprison you in some lonely tower, without state or attendants. You shall not see your children from one year's end to the other."

"Prison for the Crown Princess? Would you dare, Prince George?"

"At the Tower of Nossen rooms are in readiness for your Imperial Highness," sneered my father-in-law as he walked out.

Nossen! A ruined country-house, flanked by a mediaeval tower in the midst of swamps. The nearest habitation miles away. Neither railway nor post-office, neither telegraph nor telephone--just the place to bury one alive. And I only thirty-one.

Augustus the Physical Strong imprisoned Countess Cosel at Nossen six months before he sent her to her prison-grave in Stolpen. After Cosel's departure, another royal mistress was lodged in Nossen, and as she would neither commit suicide, nor succ.u.mb to the fever, they starved her to death. And it all happened in the eighteenth century.

The word Nossen sent cold shivers down my spine. I am sure I won't sleep a wink.

CHAPTER LIII

REVOLVER IN HAND, I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION

An insolent Grand Mistress, but of wonderful courage--Imprisonment, threats to kill have no effect on her--Disregards my t.i.tles--My lover's souvenir and endearing words--How she caused Henry to leave me--My paroxysms of rage--Henry's complete betrayal of me.

PILLNITZ, _May 26, 1901_.

This morning I awoke a mental and physical wreck, but determined to solve those vexatious questions: "What do the King and Prince George know?" "What have they found out?"

I slipped on a dressing-gown, fetched my small revolver from its hiding-place in the boudoir and rang for the Tisch.

I received her politely enough. I was quiet, cold, calculating. She gave a start as she observed my stony countenance.

"Baroness," I said, motioning her to come nearer, "explain the att.i.tude a.s.sumed by His Majesty, Prince George and the rest."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I want to know. Do you hear, Grand Mistress? I command you to speak," I cried.

A sneer of contempt hovered about her lips. She is a viper, this woman, but has the courage of the rattle-snake in action.

I turned the keys in the several doors and threw them under the bed.

From under the pillow I drew my revolver.

I showed her the weapon and calmly announced, accentuating each word: "You won't leave this room alive until the question I put to you is answered to my satisfaction. I want the whole truth. You needn't excuse your own part in the business. As Henri _Quatre_ said to the lover of Diane de Poitiers, secreted under her bed, as he threw him half a cold bird: 'We all want to live, some honestly, some dishonestly.' You choose the dishonest road. Be it so.

"But I want you to state what you accuse me of. Hurry," I added menacingly.

The Tisch was unmoved. Either she thinks me a horrible dastard or is brave to madness. She looked at me fearlessly and smiled. She seemed to enjoy my rage.

"Answer or I will shoot you like the dog you are."

And then her cold and fearless voice rang out: "Put your revolver away.

I am not afraid to tell you, and that thing might go off. Is it possible," she continued sarcastically, "you have to ask?"

This woman dared to address me "you." "Tisch," I thundered, "my t.i.tle reads Your Imperial Highness."

Another contemptuous smile curled her thin lips as she answered insolently: "At your commands. But if you want me to talk, put away the weapon. I won't open my head while threatened."

I threw the revolver into a drawer of my chiffonier and the Tisch approached me. "Do you know this?" she hissed, whipping from her desert bosom the golden _Portebonheur_, Henry's present.

I had missed it for two days. Fear seized my throat.

"Do you know this?" repeated the Tisch, pushing the b.u.t.ton and disclosing Henry's miniature with the legend "To my sweetest Louise."