Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 38

Whether he felt like a thief, I don't know; for my part my senses responded to Henry, not to his subst.i.tute.

How long this embrace lasted, I don't know. Somebody, or some noise, caused us to separate.

I fled and locked myself in my room.

"Tell His Royal Highness he must excuse me. I can't see him before he goes away. Say I have a headache, or the gout, I don't care which," I commanded Lucretia next morning.

The previous night I had denied myself to Frederick Augustus, though he entreated and raved.

While I appreciate the arch-Lais's _bon mot_ that "one can't judge of a family by a single specimen," which made Ninon talk of her lovers _not_ as Coligny, Villarceau, Sevigne, Conde, d'Albret, etc., but as _les_ Rochefoucaults, _les_ d'Effiats, _les_ Condes, _les_ Sevignes, etc., I was determined not to betray Henry by the whole House of Saxony in a single twelve-hours.

I wonder whether this Bernhardt loves me? Perhaps, on his part, it was the longing for the girl he adores, as, on mine, it was longing for Henry that drew us together with electric force. And, of course, environment had something to do with it: moon, opportunity, Frederick Augustus's indolent _gaucherie_. Yes, why deny it, the good dinner we had, the champagne.

CHAPTER XLVIII

GRAND MISTRESS TELLS HUSBAND I KEEP A DIARY

He wants to see it, but seems unsuspecting--Grand Mistress denies that she meant mischief, but I upbraid her unmercifully--Threaten to dismiss her like a thieving lackey.

LOSCHWITZ, _May 1, 1901_.

Frederick Augustus leaves tomorrow. Forever, I thought, when he put this question to me:

"You are keeping a Diary, Louise?"

I was frightened dumb. I stared at him.

"What's the matter," he laughed. "I'm not going to eat you." He didn't seem to be at all perturbed.

"How do you know I keep a Diary?" I stuttered.

Nonchalantly enough he made answer: "Your bag-of-bones Baroness told me.

Full of forbidden things, I suppose, since you regard it a state secret.

You often say that my education was sadly neglected. Maybe I can learn a thing or two from your scribblings. Let's look 'm over."

By this time I had regained my composure. "Naturally," I said, "a Diary records thoughts and things intended for the writer only, but if you choose to be ungentlemanly enough to wish to peruse those pages more sacred than private letters, I suppose I will have to submit."

Frederick Augustus changed the subject, but I felt instinctively that he was disappointed. Someone had played on his curiosity, and to go unsatisfied is not at all in this prince's line.

Of course, the someone was the Tisch, but how did she know? I will ask her as soon as Frederick Augustus is gone.

LOSCHWITZ, _May 2, 1901_.

"Have you ever seen my Diary?" I asked the Tisch this morning.

"Never, Your Imperial Highness."

"Then how do you know I keep a Diary?"

"I surmised it because I saw Your Imperial Highness write repeatedly in one and the same book." The hussy affected a humble tone, but the note of triumph and hatred underlying the creature's meekness did not escape me.

"And the mere surmise prompted you to blab to my husband, arouse his suspicions?"

"For Heaven's sake," cried my Grand Mistress, "I had no idea that His Royal Highness didn't know about the Diary. Secrets between the Prince-Royal and Your Imperial Highness--how dare I pre-suppose such a state of things? His Royal Highness casually asked how the Crown Princess killed time in Loschwitz. I mentioned riding, driving, bicycling, writing letters, writing in the Diary----"

My fingers itched to slap her lying face, Grand-d.u.c.h.ess of Tuscany fas.h.i.+on, but I kept my temper.

"Listen to me," I said. "While you have secret instructions to play the serpent in my household and to betray, for dirty money, your mistress of the Blood Imperial, your duties as a spy are confined to my going and coming, to my exterior conduct, to my visits outside the palace, to my friends.h.i.+ps, perhaps.

"They cannot possibly encompa.s.s my thoughts. And my Diary is the repository of my thoughts--thoughts that must not be defiled by your favor-seeking curiosity. Be warned. The next time you dare act the burglar--I say _burglar_--I will kick you out of doors like a thieving lackey."

She got as white as a sheet and hissed back: "Your Imperial Highness can't dismiss me. Only His Majesty has power----"

I interrupted her with an imperious gesture.

"I said I will kick you out of doors like a thieving lackey," I repeated, "and I will do so this moment if you say another word. Whether or not His Majesty will punish me for the act, that's _my_ business. You will be on the street and will stay on the street."

I pointed to the door: "I dismiss you now. You will keep to your room for the rest of the day."

I saw the Tisch was near collapse.

"Your Imperial Highness deigns to insult a defenseless woman," she breathed as she went out.

Defenseless! So is the viper that attacks one's heel! First these "defenseless" creatures goad one to madness, then they appeal to our _n.o.blesse oblige_. The enmity between the Tisch and I is more intense than ever.

CHAPTER XLIX

ARISTOCRATIC VISITORS

I hear disquieting news about my lover's character--The aristocracy a dirty lot--Love-making made easy by t.i.tled friends--Anecdotes of Richelieu and the Duke of Orleans--The German n.o.bleman who married Miss Wheeler and had to resign his birthright--The disreputable business the Pappenheims and other n.o.bles used to be in--I am afraid to question my lover as to charges.

LOSCHWITZ, _May 15, 1901_.

The Vitzthums have been visiting for a week. Henry lodges in the village, but spends nearly all his time in the castle and grounds. We play tennis, polo, ball; we drive, ride, go bicycling, we dine and sup together.

I ought to be the happiest woman in the world, but a shadow dims the ideal picture my mind's eye drew of the lover.

I have it recorded somewhere--I wish I hadn't, so I might doubt my memory--that Henry told me he never borrowed from his sister. Countess Vitzthum's confidences to me show that he did repeatedly, that, in fact, he is forever trying to borrow.