Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 18

"I have no desire to lose my regiment."

"And I have no desire to sit at home and talk nothingnesses with the fools His Majesty appoints for my service."

"Take a care," cried Frederick Augustus.

"Don't be a noodle and a coward," I answered hotly.

"Louise, remember that I am an army officer."

"What has that to do with my going to the theatre?"

"It's the height of audacity to defy the King."

"It would be the depth of cowardice to stay at home."

"Take back that word, or----"

"I wish Your Royal Highness a very pleasant evening," I said, indulging in a low genuflexion.

Frederick Augustus got blue with rage. I saw him clench his fists as I swept out of the room, making as much noise with my train as I could manage.

"An out-rider," I commanded the Master of Horse who stood in the ante-chamber awaiting me.

"At your Imperial Highness' commands," bowed the Baron with the most astonished face in the world. We use out-riders, that is grooms in livery, to ride ahead of the royal carriage, only on state occasions in Dresden. But, of course, my orders would be obeyed even if I had demanded twelve grooms to attend me.

I was just going out, preceded by my Chamberlain and followed by my ladies, Baroness Tisch and _Fraulein_ von Schoenberg; there were two lackeys at the door and in the corridor stood the groom-in-waiting, holding several lap-robes for me to decide which to take, when the Prince caught up with me.

"I forbid you to go to the theatre," he bawled in the presence of my t.i.tled entourage and three servants.

I realized at once that this was the supreme moment of my life at the court of Saxony. Either bend or break. If I allowed myself to be roared at and ordered about like a servant-wench--goodbye the Imperial Highness! Enter the Jenny-Sneak German housewife, greedy for her master's smile and willing to accept an occasional kick. The Prince had begun this family brawl in public. I would finish.

"I won't take orders," I held forth. "No commands, understand, princely, royal or otherwise. And be advised, now and for all time, that I will answer any attempt to brutalize me by immediate departure, or by seeking refuge with the Austrian Amba.s.sador."

If Frederick Augustus had suddenly become Mrs. Lot he wouldn't have been more conspicuous for utter petrification and silence. He stared at me with wide-open, bleary eyes and if I had taken him by the neck and feet and dropped him out of the window, as his ancestor Augustus of the three-hundred and fifty-two took the "spook" sent into his bedroom by Joseph the First, he wouldn't have offered the ghost of resistance, I dare say.

"Your arm, Mr. Chamberlain, since His Royal Highness doesn't wish to accompany us." And I swept out of the ante-chamber and through the corridor, triumphant.

"Gipsy Baron" was the bill of the play. I knew only a few of its waltzes and I drank in the comedy and the pretty music like one desperately athirst. Kyril's girl, the Dolores, was very chic and looked ravis.h.i.+ngly pretty, and brother-in-law Max isn't the dunce I took him for.

His Theresa is a droll dog, fair to look upon, dark and fat. It will take a lot of holy water to save her from purgatory.

Girardi made me screech with laughter. He is as funny as my father-in-law is mournful--a higher compliment to his art I cannot pay.

Of course, actor-like, he appreciated an Imperial Highness' applause and looked up to my box every little while. I wish, though, he hadn't acknowledged my plaudits by bowing to me. It attracted general attention and soon the whole house was staring and smiling. The people seemed to be glad that their Crown Princess was enjoying herself.

CHAPTER XX

t.i.tLED SERVANTS LOW AND CUNNING

George tries to rob me of my confidante--Enter the King's spy, Baroness Tisch in her true character--Punishment of one royal spy.

DRESDEN, _August 1, 1894_.

Prince George is planning a devilish revenge. He threatens to separate me from my Secretary and confidante, little Baranello, whom I brought with me from Salzburg. She is an Italian, and, unlike most of them, as faithful as a dog. A connection of the Ruffo family, princes and dukes that gave the world more than one pope, the small fry Saxon n.o.bility hate her, and George knows that he can't corrupt Lucretia by his paltry presents and ridiculous condescension.

They would send her back to Salzburg, if they dared,--anyhow, Baroness von Tisch is to be both Chief Mistress and confidential secretary. If she died of the first confidence I make her, she wouldn't live five minutes.

The King's House Marshal, Baron von Carlowitz, came to announce the change to me, but I knew, of course, that it was George's doings.

"Tell Prince George," I said icily, "that I appreciate the fact of being deprived of the services of an honest woman in favor of a spy."

I will "show" this Tisch woman, as my American friends say. Some three years ago Emperor Francis Joseph appointed a spy as attendant to my brother Leopold. Schoenstein, Baron or Count, was his name, I think.

Schoenstein would rather bear evil tales of his young master to his old master than eat, and nothing would please him better than to meddle with Leopold's correspondence.

He stole as many letters as he could lay his hands on. Fished them even from slop-pails, or pieced together such as Leopold tore up and dropped in the cuspidors. When brother observed this, he used to tear up bills and the most innocent writings of his own and other people into little bits and planted them in Schoenstein's hunting-grounds. Appropriate work for a _lick-spittle_ to pull them out. But Leopold got tired of playing with this vermin, and it tickled him to make an example of the scamp.

Hence, he allowed it to be observed by Schoenstein when he, Leopold, locked a parcel of letters from his girl in the cash-box.

The toad-eating Schoenstein burned with desire to copy these letters and send the transcript on to Emperor Francis Joseph. They would have made interesting reading to my old uncle who has given up cracking nuts since his teeth fell out. There is Kati Schratt, you say. Pshaw, Kati is as old, or nearly as old, as his Majesty and she isn't a Ninon de l'Enclos by any means.

To cut a long story short, Schoenstein could see but one way for getting those compromising letters: steal the keys and borrow the parcel for a short while. That's what Leopold was waiting for. Not half an hour after the keys had been abstracted, he raised the alarm. He had been "robbed."

The archducal safe had been rifled. And he managed to catch Schoenstein red-handed.

"Send for the police," thundered my brother, "and meanwhile watch the thief well." Schoenstein was given no chance to explain and deemed himself lucky to escape arrest. My brother suspended him from service and made him go to a hotel while he telegraphed the story of the attempted theft to Vienna, asking the Count's immediate dismissal.

Of course, Vienna disavowed the dunderhead--royalty has no use for persons that allow themselves to be compromised--and he has been in disgrace ever since. Nor can he get another courtly office, for Leopold threatened the moment he sees him with a Highness to warn everybody: "Look to your watch and purse, we have a thief with us."

I jotted this down to remind me that Prince George's spy deserves no better than the Emperor's.

CHAPTER XXI

BANISHMENT

I am ordered to repair to a country house with the hated spy as my Grand Mistress--My first impulse to go home, but afraid parents won't have me.

DRESDEN, _August 10, 1894_.

Order from the King that myself and children spend the rest of the summer at Villa Loschwitz, to remain until I get royal permission to return to Dresden,--the Tisch to act as chief of my household.

Banished! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Smile, because I escaped the _ennui_ of attending court at the summer residence of Pillnitz; weep, because my absence from court would be interpreted as a disciplinary measure.

I know Pillnitz is about as gay as a Trappist feast of carrion and ant's milk, but this princess doesn't want to be disciplined.