Part 29 (1/2)

DRESDEN, _January 5, 1898_.

I neglected my diary, I neglect everything, for I'm in love. What care I for the King, Prince George and the rest who are trying to make life miserable for me? I laugh their pettinesses to scorn, for I have no other thought now but Romano Bielsk, no other interests. He is my all, my happiness.

Of course, his ”_Tomorrow, love_,” prevailed and it has been ”_Tomorrow, love_,” ever since. On the day after our first meeting I actually thought I was warring against nature if I resisted his entreaties. It seemed to me that I had always known him, that we were predestined for each other. I still think so.

Lucretia has a relative here, an aunt, member of the court set. Old Countess Baranello delights in intrigue and hates Prince George. When I told her of my affair, she placed her palace at our disposal, saying:

”Bielsk shall have a key to the garden gate and to the pavilion inside the walls, which connects, through a subterranean pa.s.sage, with my sun-parlor. You can meet your love there any time. I will see to it that none of the servants or workmen disturb you.”

A capital arrangement, worthy of an old lady who has seen many gallant days! There can be no possible objection to my visits at her palace, and the grounds to which Romano has the _entree_ fronts on a street unfrequented by society or carriages.

I descend from my carriage at the palace gate; a knot of people, a small crowd, perhaps, collects to salute me and gape at the horses and livery.

I sweep up the stoop, lined by my own, and the Countess's, servants. The bronze doors open. The Countess advances with stately curtsy; a few words _sub rosa_, and I--fly into the arms of love, while faithful Lucretia mounts guard at the street side, and Her Ladys.h.i.+p's spy gla.s.ses cover the garden;--needless precautions, but----

It's rare fun, and, after all, where's the harm?

I made good as propagatrix of the royal race, and a union of soul such as exists between me and Romano never entered into my relations with Frederick Augustus.

Romano is very intelligent. I can learn from him; Frederick Augustus taught me only coa.r.s.eness, and if it came high, _double entendres_. Yet my lover is only a Councillor of Legation! Because his superiors, fearing his adroitness, keep him down.

My children! Have I ever been allowed to be a real mother to them? The King, the nation, owns my little ones. I see them at stated intervals for half an hour or so, and romp with them as I do with my dogs.

Still, I don't altogether approve of Louise, malicious girl! When I am at the top-gallant of my happiness I sometimes say to myself: ”Oh, if only George could see me now!”

Naughty Louise--it's unworthy of thee. What do I care for George, what do I care for the world?

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

”IN LOVE THERE ARE NO PRINCESSES, ONLY WOMEN”

A diplomatic trick--Jealous of Romano's past--The pact for life and the talisman--If there were a theatre fire the talisman would discover our love to the King--Some ill-natured reflections--Bernhardt's escapades cover up my tracks--The ”black sheep” jumps his horse over a coffin--King gives him a beating--Bernhardt's mess-room lingo--Anecdotes of royal voluptuaries--Forces animals to devour each other--Naked ballet-girls as horses--Abnormals rule the world.

DRESDEN, _May 20, 1898_.

Romano learned about my theatre going by a diplomatic trick. He told one of the minor attaches of the Emba.s.sy that he had orders to watch me--”all-highest command.” The official, consequently, negotiated with the box offices of all the theatres to phone him the moment Her Imperial Highness ordered seats.

I am crazy to know how many women Romano loved in the twenty or more years since he grew to man's estate, and how many he seduced. It agitates and pains me to think of it, but all my questions are barren of results.

Yesterday I asked him whether he ever knew a Princess of the Blood before me--”knew” in the biblical sense.

”In love,” he said, ”there are no princesses, there are women only.”

He saw that I was hurt and added quickly: ”Now don't be unreasonable, Louise--no prejudices. With the thought in my mind that you are an Imperial Highness, or that you consider yourself of better clay than I, I couldn't love you as I do.”

DRESDEN, _July 1, 1898_.