Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 53

It's in the nature of things that the Baron will do his worst to destroy me, but Bernhardt! Bernhardt, who held me in his arms, now one of my judges! He will have to be especially severe with his _quondam_ mistress lest the King suspect.

While the sweet family bent over those love letters--I bet the Tisch withheld Henry's--I sat in Richard's studio, advising with him.

"There are only two things to be considered: the madhouse or instant flight."

"You dare advise me to leave my children?"

"There are no nurseries in madhouses. Your children are lost to you, anyhow. If you remain, as an alleged insane person, you 'can't be trusted,' they'll argue, for you are helpless, legally, morally and physically.

"If you run away to Switzerland, on the other hand, you are a free woman, under the protection of a republican government.

"Switzerland, I needn't tell you, will not go to war to wrest your children from the royal family, but will afford you personally every advantage, legal and otherwise.

"Decide quickly: are you going to make King George a present of yourself as well as of the five children you bore for the benefit of the Wettiners?"

"Never."

My mind is made up. My few belongings are packed. I, who came to Dresden with fifty-two trunks, leave the palace with a satchel, easy to carry. I take nothing but my personal jewels, the little money I own and some changes of linen.

If I could only see my children for a moment or two, but the Queen has them in her keeping, and I might be seized as a "mad woman" if I dared leave my apartments and cross to those occupied by Her Majesty.

And Frederick Augustus! He will miss me in his way.

Ten more minutes. I hear the distant clatter of a carriage. Richard driving to our rendezvous, two streets north of the palace gate.

Will my limbs carry me to him and liberty? I pace the room to test their strength.

"Louise," says the voice within,--"your last chance. Your good-natured husband, your darling children, your old parents, pomp and state and circ.u.mstance, indeed, a crown, you are going to abandon for--what?"

A man whose carnal side only you know, a poor man, an artist without fame, a professional without future.

Sadly perturbed in mind, I walk to the window. Those of His Majesty's cabinet, where the family council is in progress, are directly opposite.

Shadows of men and women, rising from a sitting position, are thrown on the curtains.

One of the shades slowly ascends.

I see the Tisch pointing a bony finger to the windows of my boudoir.

Von Metzsch stands by her side. They grin.

You triumph, wretch and Jezebel?

But when your _sbirri_, in an hour from now, or tomorrow morning early, invade my rooms, instructed to carry me away--bound hand and foot to a sofa, or in a straight jacket, perhaps--they will find the Crown Princess gone--her and her Diary.

Both will be safe on foreign soil ere you can make arrangements for organized pursuit, for Richard and I will travel by carriage to a distant suburb, there mount the fast express and keep to our state room, engaged under an a.s.sumed name, until without the sphere of Saxon or German influence.

A discreet knock. Andrew, my liberator! In his hand a tallow dip to light this Imperial Highness down back stairs to the new life of her choice.

"One moment, old man, this book goes into the valise.

"Hand me the blotter, please. Tears won't do.

"And a couple more handkerchiefs from the top of the chiffonier, please."

FINIS