Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 25

"Play the dove to your daughter-in-law," quoth the Grand-d.u.c.h.ess. "I hear you are fighting like Kilkenny cats."

"You are impertinent, Madame," cried George furiously.

"You will oblige me by showing this man the door," demanded Victoria Melita, addressing her husband.

"Not until I have explained the situation," answered Ernest Ludwig quietly. "Listen, then, cousin! While I am by principle opposed to divorce, I won't force my wife to live with me."

"And now be so kind as to withdraw," said Victoria Melita, opening the door for Prince George. Poor as I am, I would have given five thousand marks to have seen the meddling pest exit in that fas.h.i.+on, and I love Victoria Melita for the spirit she displayed, even if I don't approve of her _liaisons_.

DRESDEN, _February 10, 1896_.

A mighty virtuous remark escaped me on the last page, and I almost feel like asking the Grand-d.u.c.h.ess's pardon, for, whatever I am, I'm no hypocrite. Melita is said to have a lover; I have an admirer. Up to now I don't care a rap for him, but who knows?

It's Count Bielsk of the Roumanian Emba.s.sy. I can't remember whether he was ever introduced to me. Most probably he was, but I forgot.

An elegant fellow--always looks as if he stepped out of a tailor's shop in Piccadilly.

Every single night I go to the theatre the Count occupies an orchestra chair that affords the best possible view of the royal box. It happened too often and too persistently to be accidental. Moreover, I observe that he pays no attention to the play. He has eyes for me only.

Impertinence? Decidedly, but I can't be angry with the fellow. On the contrary, I am flattered, and the kind face and the fine eyes he's got!

Poor stupid Tisch doesn't approve of the theatre, of course, and usually begs to be excused on the plea of religious duties. "What a sinner you must be," I sometimes say, "when you are obliged to forever bother G.o.d with prayers."

The Schoenberg I send into the next box, for she is no spy and never watches me. But if I must take Tisch, I always command her to sit behind me. Etiquette forbids her the front of the box and from the rear she can see only the stage.

What fun to carry on a flirtation right under the nose of that acrid-hearted, snivelling bigot, who would mortgage part of the eternal bliss she promises herself for a chance to catch me at it!

Am I flirting, then?

To spite the Tisch I would plant horns on the very Kaiser.

_April 1, 1896._

The Duke of Saxony is dead--the man who at one time offered violence to His Majesty. Bernhardt was mistaken; he left a wife and three children.

Of course, no recognized wife. Just the woman he married. Unless you are of the blood-royal, you won't see the difference, but that is no concern of mine.

Novels and story books have a good deal to say on the subject of inheritance-fights among the lowly. Greed, hard-heartedness, close-fistedness, treachery, cheating all around! See what will happen to the Duke's widow and her little ones.

According to the house laws, a regular pirate's code, his late Highness's fortune reverts to the family treasury. Prince Johann George will derive the revenues from the real estate the Duke owned privately.

He is already rich,--sufficient reason for his wanting more. I shudder when I think what they will do to the woman the Duke married.

The most notable thing about the funeral was the "calling down" Prince Bernhardt got.

"You will go to my valet and ask him to lend you one of my helmets.

Yours is not the regulation form, I see," said the King to him in the voice of a drill-sergeant. And Bernhardt had to take to his heels like a school-boy caught stealing apples.

I had to laugh when I observed the meeting between my erstwhile admirer, the Prince of Bulgaria, and His Majesty.

Ferdinand's broad chest was ablaze with orders and decorations, but his valet had forgotten to pin onto him the Cross of the _Rautenkrone_, the Royal Saxe House decoration. There were plenty of others, but the King had eyes only for the one not dangling from a green ribbon.

Consequently, Ferdinand, though a sovereign Prince, got only one "_How art thou?_" If we were living in the eighteenth, instead of the nineteenth, century, his valet's neglect would const.i.tute a prime cause for war between the two countries.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

MELITA'S LOVE AFFAIRS AND MINE

The Grand d.u.c.h.ess tells me how she cudgeled George--Living dictaphone employed--Shows him who is mistress of the house--Snaps fingers in Prince George's face--Debate about t.i.tles--"A s.e.xless thing of a husband"--Conference between lover and husband--Grand Duke doesn't object to his wife's lover, but lover objects to "his paramour being married."

DRESDEN, _April 15, 1896_.

Melita conducted herself at the funeral and in our palace as unconcernedly as if she and George were fast friends. She smiled every time she saw him, and he cut her dead to his heart's content. During the three days' stay of the Hesses, I had many a good talk and many a good laugh with Melita, and now I got a true and unabridged record of what happened at Darmstadt during George's meddling visit there.

The Grand-d.u.c.h.ess, who can be as catty as they make 'em, had her secretary sit behind a screen to take stenographic notes.

Saxon kings and princes always roar and bellow when, in conversation or otherwise, things go against their "all-highest" grain. As soon as George felt that he was losing ground, he began to bark and yell, whereupon Melita interrupted him by saying, "I beg you to take notice that you are in _my_ house."

George grew so red in the face, Melita hoped for an apoplectic fit. But after a few seconds he managed to blurt out: "It's your husband's house."

"While I am Grand-d.u.c.h.ess of Hesse it's my house, too. Moreover, this is my room and I forbid you to play the ruffian here."

Prince George looked at the Grand-duke, but Ernest Ludwig said nothing.

"I am here as the King's representative. I represent the chief of the Royal House of Saxony."

"A fig for your Royal House of Saxony," said Melita, snapping her fingers in George's face. "Queen Victoria is my chief of family, and, that aside, Ludwig and I are sovereigns in Hesse and have no intention whatever to allow anyone----"

"Anyone?" repeated George aghast. "You refer to me as anyone?"

"In things matrimonial," said Melita, "only husband and wife count; all others are 'anyone.' You, too."

"She calls me 'you,'" cried George, white with rage, looking helplessly at Ernest Ludwig. When the latter kept his tongue and temper, George addressed himself to Melita once more.

"I want you to understand that my t.i.tle is Royal Highness."

"And I want you to understand that I am Her Royal Highness the Grand-d.u.c.h.ess of Hesse, Royal Princess of Great Britain and Ireland, d.u.c.h.ess of Saxony," cried Melita, stamping her foot.

With that she went to the door, opened it and said, "I request Your Royal Highness to leave my house this very second."

And George went.