Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 39

"He is a spendthrift; he cannot be trusted," said his sister, who loves him dearly. "He will wreck his career if he continues at the pace he is going. Some day we may hear of him as a waiter or cab-driver in New York."

These disclosures frightened me. I might forgive him the lie, but what is he doing with the money?

Spending it on lewd women like Bernhardt, I suppose.

I said: "Oh," and Madame von Vitzthum seemed to catch its significance.

It occurred to her at once that she had said too much and she tried to minimize her brother's delinquencies. But I know.

Maybe some of my money went to pay hotel expenses for----

_At Midnight._

My cousin Richelieu caused his mistresses to be painted in all sorts of monastic garments and licentious devices, saying: "I have my saints and martyrs; they are all that; but, as for virgins, there are none outside of Paradise." Subst.i.tute _paillards_ for the holy ones and you have the situation in a nutsh.e.l.l.

The Vitzthums are panderers. They always manage to leave me alone with Henry. When we are a-wheel, they ride a mile ahead; while playing tennis one or the other aims the ball, every little while, to enter the open window of a summer-house, where my lover and I can exchange a few rapid kisses. When we are driving, without coachman or groom, of course, they always "feel like walking a bit," while Henry and I remain in the carriage.

The same at the house, on the veranda. They are always _de trop_.

Vitzthum even sacrifices himself to the extent of paying court to the Tisch and engaging her entire attention, if it must be. He reminds me of a certain colonel of the French army during the Regency.

"_Monseigneur_," said this gentleman to my cousin d'Orleans, "permit me to employ my regiment as a guard for my wife, and I swear to you that n.o.body shall go near her but Your Highness."

Of course, it's very lovely of them, but rather emphasizes the poor opinion I have of the n.o.bility.

Your n.o.bleman and n.o.blewoman adopt all tones, all airs, all masks, all allures, frank and false, flattering and brutal, choleric or mild, virtuous or bawdy--anything as long as it makes for their profit. Some months ago I met at the Dresden court the Dowager Countess Julie Feodorowna of Pappenheim, who told everybody she could persuade to listen that her eldest son, Max Albrecht, had to resign the succession, because he married beneath him, an American heiress, Miss Wheeler of Philadelphia.

"Then you despise money?" I queried with a malicious thought just entering my head.

"Not exactly, Your Imperial Highness," she said, "but our house laws----"

"Those funny house laws," I smiled, "you don't say they forbid a Pappenheim to accept half a dozen millions from his wife, when, in days gone by, the Counts of Pappenheim's chief income was the tax on harlotry in Franconia and Swabia."

The Countess nearly dropped. "Don't be alarmed," I said. "See the pompous looking man in the corner yonder? It's Count Henneberg. His forbears held the fiefs.h.i.+p of the Wurzburg city brothel for many hundred years. That's where the family fortune came from."

LOSCHWITZ, _May 17, 1901_.

I am an ingrate. I bit the hand that fed me. n.o.ble iniquity that yields such delicious crumbs of love as Henry and I stole in moments of ecstasy in park and parlor, in pavilion and veranda, on our drives and rides, be blessed a hundred times. Ah, the harvest of little tendernesses, the sweet words I caught on the wing--recompense for the weeks of abstinence I suffered!

Occasionally only, very occasionally, I feel like questioning Henry as to the lie he was guilty of. I quizzed his sister time and again about his relations with women. She always gives me a knowing laugh; I wonder whether she means to be impertinent, or is simply a silly goose.

I won't ask him. If he is innocent, as I sincerely hope, he will be offended. If he is not, he will be ashamed of himself and will avoid me in future. It's "innocent," you lose, and "guilty," you don't win.

And I love him. I want him, whether he lies to me or not.

CHAPTER L

TO LIVE UNDER KING'S AND PRINCE GEORGE'S EYE

Abruptly ordered to the royal summer residence--The Vitzthums and Henry take flight--Enmeshed by Prince George's intrigues--Those waiting for a crown have no friends--What I will do when Queen--No wonder Kings of old married only relatives--Interesting facts about relative marriages furnished by scientist.

LOSCHWITZ, _May 18, 1901_.

All-highest order to proceed to Pillnitz, the royal summer residence, without delay--a command I cannot possibly evade. Conveyed in curt, almost insulting terms--the Tisch's work, no doubt.

It came like lightning out of a blue sky, just when Henry and I had planned some real love-making _a la_ Dresden.

The Vitzthums lost no time taking their leave when the scent of royal disgrace was in the air, and, as if to emphasize the obscene office they had a.s.sumed, they spirited Henry away ere we had time even to say goodbye.

What a life I am leading with the ogre of the King's wrath forever hanging over me; Prince George's intrigues, octopus-like, enmes.h.i.+ng me!

Ten years I have been Crown Princess of these realms. Three Princes and a Princess I gave to Saxony. A fifth child is trembling in my womb, yet every atom of happiness that falls to my lot is moulded into a strand of the rope fastening 'round my neck.

I haven't a friend in the world. A most dangerous thing to be on good terms with the heirs to the crown. Makes the temporary inc.u.mbent of the bauble nervous, makes him jealous.

When I am Queen, I will have friends in plenty. But then I won't need any. Immense wealth will be at my disposal. I will have offices to distribute, t.i.tles, crosses and stars.

Instead of tolerating the serpents now coiling at my fireside ready to spring at a word from their master, I will appoint to court offices persons I love or esteem, at least.

Henry shall be my Chief Equerry; the Tisch will be dismissed in disgrace--no pension.

But I am day-dreaming again. I started out to say that I had no friends.

Yet there's Bernhardt? Precisely--as long as I am his mistress.

Marie is dead, Melita expects to be divorced before the end of the year.

She will be a Russian Grand-d.u.c.h.ess, and the tedium of petty German court life will know her no longer.

Aside from Lucretia, there isn't a man or woman at the Saxon court whom I can trust, for our high functionaries are only lackeys having a bathroom to themselves. In no other way do they differ from the servants who are allowed one bathroom per twenty-four heads.

But the high aristocracy! Its men and women flatter us to get us into leading strings, try to make us p.a.w.ns on the political or social chess-board. As a whole, they are a despicable lot.

No wonder kings of old married members of their own family exclusively, even their sisters, _in re_ of which the learned Baron von Reitzenstein told me many interesting details.

He copied especially from Egyptian records, but also from Armenian, Babylonian and Persian, to wit:

Daranavausch married his niece, Phratunga.

His son and successor married his niece Artayanta.

Artaxerxes was also married to a niece of his.

Darius II and Parysatis married their sisters.