"Why do you not admit it?" she asked quickly.
"Princess, if the Emperor gives me orders to preserve secrecy, then it
is my duty to obey," I said.
"I know," she answered, and then I realized how upset and nervous she
seemed. "But Von Metzsch hates me, and has put about all sorts of
scandalous reports concerning me. Ah! Count," she sighed, "you do not
know how very unhappy I am--how I am surrounded by enemies!"
These words caused me much surprise, though I had, of course, heard many
unsavoury rumours regarding her unhappy position at the Saxon Court.
"I much regret to hear that," I said. "But Your Imperial Highness has
also many friends, of whom I hope I may be permitted to number myself."
"Ah! it is extremely good of you to say that--very good. If
you are really my friend, then you can help me. You are in a
position to watch and discover what is in progress--the reason
the Emperor exchanges those constant confidences with Von Metszch,
the man who has twisted my husband around his little finger,
and who has, with my Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, Frau von Fritsch,
already poisoned his mind against me. Ah!" she sighed again,
"you have no idea how much I have suffered!"
She seemed on the verge of a nervous crisis, for I saw that in her fine
eyes stood the light of unshed tears, and I confess I was much puzzled,
for I had certainly believed, up to that moment, that she was on
excellent terms with her husband.
"But surely His Highness the Crown-Prince of Saxony does not believe
any of those wicked reports?" I said.
"Ah! Then you have heard. Of course, you have. Von Metzsch has taken
good care to let the whole world know the lies that he and the Countess
Paule Starhemberg have concocted between them. It is cruel!" she
declared in a paroxysm of grief. "It is wicked!"
"No, no. Calm yourself, Princess!" I urged sympathetically. "I am at
least your friend, and will act as such should occasion arise."
"I thank you," she sighed in relief, and she put out her hand, over
which I bent as I took it in friendship.
"Ah!" she exclaimed in a low voice. "I fear I shall require the
assistance of a friend very soon. Do you recollect my broken pearls?"
And a few moments later she left my room.
Through all that day and the next I wondered what sly, underhand work
could be in progress. I pitied the good-looking, unconventional Imperial
Princess who, because of her somewhat hoydenish high spirits, had
aroused the storm of anger and jealousy in the Saxon Court. But the
Hapsburgs had ever been unfortunate in their loves.
On the day before the Crown-Princess's visit to the Berlin Court was due
to end, at about six o'clock in the evening, I passed the sentries and
ascended to the Emperor's study with some papers I had been going
through regarding the reorganization of the Stettin garrison. I was one
of the very few persons ever admitted to that wing of the Palace.
As I approached the door, treading noiselessly upon the soft carpet, I
heard voices raised excitedly, the door being slightly ajar.
Naturally I halted. In my position I was able to hear a great deal of
Palace intrigue, but never had I listened to a conversation that held me
more breathless than at that moment.
"Woman," cried the Emperor, "do you, then, openly defy my authority?"
"What that crafty sycophant, Von Metzsch, has told you is, I repeat, a
foul and abominable lie," was the reply.
And I knew that the unfortunate Princess was defending her reputation,
which her enemies at the Court of Saxony had torn to shreds.
"No woman ever admits the truth, of course," sneered the Emperor. "I
consider you a disgrace to the Dresden Court."
"So this is the manner in which you openly insult your guests!" was the
Princess's bitter retort. "You, who believe yourself the idol of your
people, now exhibit yourself in your true light as the traducer of a
defenceless woman!"
"How dare you utter those words to me!" cried the All-Highest One, in
fury.
"I dare defend myself--even though you may be Emperor," replied Luisa,
in a cold, hard tone of defiance. "I repeat that your allegations are
untrue, and that you have no right to make them. Surely you can see that
my enemies, headed by the King of Saxony, are all conspiring to effect
my downfall. I know it! I have written proof of it!"
"Bosh! You say that because you know that the statements are true!"
"You lie!" she cried fiercely. "They are not true. You cannot prove
them."
"Very well," answered the Emperor in that tone of cold determination
that I knew too well. "I will prove the charges to my entire
satisfaction."
I was startled at the manner in which the Princess had dared to call the
Emperor a liar. Surely nobody had ever done so before.
I drew a long breath, for as I crept away unseen I recollected the
Kaiser's unrelenting vindictiveness.
Poor Princess! I knew that the red talons of the Hohenzollern eagle
would sooner or later be laid heavily upon her.
She left Berlin two hours later, but half an hour before her departure I
found a hurriedly-scribbled note upon my table explaining that she had
had "a few unpleasant words with the Emperor," and that she was leaving
for Dresden a day earlier than had been arranged.
A fortnight passed. Twice Baron von Metzsch came to Potsdam, and was on
each occasion closely closeted with the Emperor, as well as having
frequent consultations with Judicial Councillor Loehlein. I had strong
suspicion that the vile conspiracy against the lively daughter of the
Hapsburgs was still in progress, for I felt assured that the Kaiser
would never forgive those words of defiance from a woman's lips, and
that his vengeance, slow and subtle, would assuredly fall upon her.
I did not know at the time--not, indeed, until fully three years
later--how the blackguardly actions of Von Metzsch, who was a creature
of the Kaiser, had from the first been instigated by the All-Highest,
who, from the very day of the Prince's marriage, had, notwithstanding
his apparent graciousness towards her, determined that a Hapsburg should
never become Queen of Saxony.
For that reason, namely, because the Emperor in his overweening vanity
believes himself to be the Heaven-sent ruler of the destinies of the
German Empire, was much opposed to an Austrian princess as a potential
queen at Dresden, he set himself the task to ruin the poor woman's life
and love and to arouse such a terrible scandal concerning her that she
could not remain in Saxony with every finger pointing at her in
opprobrium and scorn.
A fresh light, however, was thrown upon what I afterwards realized to be
a dastardly conspiracy by the receipt of a cipher message late one
November night at Potsdam. I was at work alone with the Emperor in the
pale green upstairs room, reading and placing before him a number of
State documents to which he scrawled his scribbly signature, when the
telegram was brought.
"Decipher that, Heltzendorff," he commanded, and went on with the work
of reading and signing the documents, while I sat down with the red
leather-covered personal code book which bore the Imperial coronet and
cipher, and presently found that the message, which was from Dresden,
read:
"Frau von Fritsch to-day had an interview with Giron, the French
tutor to the Crown-Princess's children, but unfortunately the
latter refuses to admit any affection for Luisa. Giron angrily
declared his intention to leave Dresden, because of Von Fritsch's
suggestion. This course, I saw, would be unfortunate for our plans,
therefore I urged the King to induce Luisa to request him to
remain. She has done so, but to no avail, and Giron left for
Brussels to-night. May I be permitted to come to discuss with your
Majesty a further elaboration of the plan?--VON METZSCH."
The Emperor read the secret message twice. Then he paused, with knit
brows, and brushed his moustache with his hand, a habit of his when
perplexed.
"We go to Erfurt to-morrow, do we not?" he said. "Telegraph in cipher to
Von Metzsch to meet us there to-morrow evening at seven. And destroy
that message," he added.
I obeyed his orders, and afterwards continued to deal with the State
papers, much enlightened by the news transmitted by the Emperor's
creature.
The Imperial hand was slowly destroying the conjugal happiness of a pair
who really loved each other, even though they were of the blood royal.
The long arm of the Emperor was outstretched to crush and pulverize the
soul of the woman who had dared to defend herself--who had defied the
imperious will of that man whose hand he had, with awful blasphemy in
addressing his Brandenburgers, declared to be the hand of God.
I confess that I felt the deepest sympathy for the helpless victim. At
the Schloss, high above the old-world town of Erfurt, the sneaking
sycophant Von Metzsch had a long conference with the Emperor but I was
unable to overhear any word of it. All I know is that the Controller of
the Saxon Household left Erfurt for Dresden by special train at
midnight.
A quarter of an hour after the Saxon functionary had departed I was with
the Emperor receiving orders for the following day, and found him in
high spirits, by which, knowing him so intimately, I knew that he was
confident in his ultimate triumph.
Poor, defenceless Luisa! You, my dear Le Queux, to whom the Princess a
few months afterwards flew for advice, know well how sterling, how
womanly and honest she was; how she was one victim of many of the
unholy, unscrupulous intrigues by which the arrogant War-Lord of
Germany, aided by his devil's spawn, has until the present managed to
retain his now tottering throne.
Well, I watched the course of events; watched eagerly and daily. Twice I
had received letters from Her Imperial Highness, short notes in her
firm, bold handwriting.
From Von Metzsch came several cipher messages to the Emperor after we
had returned to Potsdam, but Zorn von Bulach, my colleague, deciphered
all of them, and, as he was not my friend, I did not inquire as to their
purport. I knew, however, that matters in Dresden were fast approaching
a crisis, and that the unfortunate Hapsburg Princess could no longer
sustain the cruel and unjust pressure being put upon her for her
undoing. That a hundred of Germany's spies and _agents-provocateurs_
were busy I realized from the many messages by telephone and telegraph
passing between Berlin and Dresden, and I felt certain that the ruin of
poor Princess Luisa was nigh.
A significant message came to Potsdam late one December night--a message
which, when I deciphered it and handed it to the Emperor, caused him to
smile in triumph.