The attempted theft of my Diary--Grand Mistress discovered after breaking open my desk--Reading Diary like mad--Personal encounter between me and Grand Mistress--I am the stronger, and carry off the ma.n.u.script, but have to leave all my love letters, which go to the King--I discover that they had stolen the key to my Diary from my neck.

DRESDEN, _November 27, 1902_.

I am undone.

They tried to obtain a picture of Louise _in the nude_--Louise as she paints _Herself_--this Diary, in fact--and, though I foiled them, the King now has in his hands my entire correspondence--every letter from every man that ever approached or possessed me.

And be sure he won't use them for curl papers as did the Duke of Richelieu with the remnants of his ladyloves' _billets doux_ that escaped confiscation.

"My collection is incomplete. I have to begin another," he said.

Alas, my collection was only _too_ complete!

This is how it came about:

As I was in the act of retiring last night, a clairvoyant's vision seized me. "Somebody meddling with your papers!" "They are breaking into your _secretaire_," the voices said.

I slipped on a pair of bath sandals and stealthily opened the door of my boudoir.

My writing desk was open, all the drawers ajar and in disorder; the Baroness bending over this, my Diary. She was reading like mad, her eyes danced with l.u.s.t of revenge.

With one bound I was at her side and she was so frightened at first, I thought she would drop. Her chest seemed to draw inward; she swayed to and fro. But only for a second or two. Then, recovering her self-possession, her fighting harness was in place again.

"Go to your room, Royal Highness," she said in a tone of command. "These papers are confiscated in the name of the King."

I was beside myself with rage. "My Diary," I cried; "instantly return it to me."

More I couldn't say, for I had neither breath nor voice. My right hand was on the book when she attempted to seize it.

I struck her hand with Richard's ring--I wish it was bigger, I wish it had a good diamond point--but she wouldn't let go. Then, before one could count one, two, three, I had hold of her--Heaven, how I enjoyed it; the satisfaction I had in giving rein to my pa.s.sion, for all was up now, anyhow.

With the left hand I caught her by the throat, while my good right boxed her ears after the homely manner mamma had taught me. Good, sound cuffs, I a.s.sure you, each liable to dislocate a tooth.

"_Canaille_," I cried, "_miserable canaille_." I pushed her into a corner and recovered the Diary, folding it up quickly. I was holding the book close to my bosom when I crossed the room to regain my bedchamber.

The Tisch after me, trying to s.n.a.t.c.h it back. I caught her on the chest and sent her flying. Then, with the ma.n.u.script, I made good my escape, leaving for the contemptible bird of prey all my love letters, reams of them, the oldest fifteen or more years old, the latest bearing yesterday's date.

Once in my room, I recollected and made a grab at my throat. The key to my Diary was gone. They stole it, chain and all, while I was asleep, no doubt.

DRESDEN, _November 28, 1902_.

Awakening, I find myself seated at the little table near the window.

Both my hands are ink-spotted. So is my night-dress.

I see, I have written an account of the battle. I must have done so some time after I returned from the field. It's well, for at the moment, I don't remember a thing.

The palace clock strikes seven.

The day of my doom.

CHAPTER LXVI

ABANDONED

My t.i.tled servants withdraw from me--An old footman my sole support--Queen takes the children--Old Andrew plays spy for me.

_Afternoon._

No one has come to see me. My household, my adjutants, marshal, chamberlains, equerries, the ladies of my entourage are on duty, but since I ordered my meals brought to the room, they pretend to a.s.sume that I'm too ill to see anyone. There may be no truth in the saying that rats leave the ship destined to sink, but the t.i.tled vermin royalty surrounds itself with certainly knows when to avoid dangerous craft.

I rang for Andrew. The good, old man wouldn't put me to the humiliation of asking questions.

"Your Imperial Highness's children are with Her Majesty," he said; and, coming a step nearer, he added in an undertone: "Baroness Tisch has been with His Majesty since nine in the morning."

"You are a kind and brave man." I held out my hand.

"If Your Imperial Highness has no immediate orders for me," continued the good soul, "I beg to be allowed to visit my friend, Hans, the King's body-servant."

I thanked Andrew for his good intentions. "Wait in the ante-chamber until I am dressed."

I donned a forty-mark costume that I keep on hand for the purpose; it didn't take me more than six or seven minutes.

"I will have to leave by the secret staircase, Andrew."

He understood and cleared the way for me.

CHAPTER LXVII

FAMILY COUNCIL AT CASTLE

Rendezvous at studio--State takes my children from me--Madhouse or flight--I brought fifty-two trunks to the palace--Depart with small satchel--If I attempt to see my children I'll be seized as "mad woman"--Varying emotions of the last ten minutes--Threatening shadows thrown on a curtain decide me--Ready for flight--Diary the last thing to go into the satchel.

_At Night. Eleven O'clock._

They went into family council at six tonight and are still deliberating, Andrew reports. The Tisch, he says, acts as secretary; His Majesty, of course, presides.

Present are the Dowager Queen, Mathilde and Isabelle. Then Frederick Augustus, Johann George, Max and Bernhardt. Baron George von Metzsch, a high government and court functionary and my enemy, attends as legal adviser to the King.