KING'S ILLNESS A BOON TO LOVERS
Prayers mixed with joy--Espionage disorganized, and I can do as I
please--Love-making in the school-room--Buying a ring for
Richard--"Wishing it on"--"Our marriage"--King's life despaired
of--My tormentors obsequious--Smile at my peccadilloes--Husband
proud of me--My popularity a great asset--Frederick Augustus
delighted when he hears that King can't last long--The joyous
luncheon at Richard's studio--Making fun of majesties--I expect to
be Queen presently.
DRESDEN, _October 22, 1902_.
He is dangerously ill. It may be weeks and months before the King
recovers--if he recovers at all.
I feel like praying, crying, shouting with joy.
When Richard folded his arms about me this afternoon, I said to myself:
"God doesn't begrudge me a lover as kind and good as Richard."
The King's illness has disorganized the espionage, my coming and going
are no longer controlled. The body-groom brings in my letters as
delivered at the gate.
In the school room, while the children are writing or studying, Richard
and I find time to exchange kind words and even an occasional caress.
When I "command" the tutor to my apartments, we need fear no surprise.
The utmost quiet prevails in the palace. The courtyard is sanded foot
high and strewn with straw to deaden the sound of wheels and horses'
hoofs. No more mounting of the guard with fife and drum.
I suggested that the children be sent to the _Grosser Garten_ to play.
The Tisch agreed with enthusiasm. This yields us--Richard and
myself--two hours of love-making.
* * * * *
DRESDEN, _October 25, 1902_.
The King continues ill.
I went into a cheap jeweler's this afternoon and bought an inexpensive
ring with a ruby no larger than a pin head. When I gave it to Richard,
he grew red with joy.
Strange, he bought a similar ring for me. I shall never wear another
ring in my life but Richard's. I pulled my rings off one after the other
and threw them on the bed.
I kissed the larger ring and "wished" it on Richard's finger. He did the
same with the ring intended for me. And we said, as with a common
breath, "Our wedding."
* * * * *
DRESDEN, _November 1, 1902_.
A bulletin, by the King's physicians, holds out scant hopes for George's
life.
I am watching the palace yard. The Archbishop of Dresden, attended by
two court chaplains and a host of other clerics, is just mounting the
stairs to administer the last rites of the Church. The next minute may
see me Queen of Saxony. I may even be Queen now. I wish I had the
effrontery to promise the lackey or official, announcing my
enthronization, a handful of gold, as George did, when King Albert was
dying.
Even so, I have risen immeasurably in everybody's esteem. The sweet
family knows me again. Johann George, Mathilde, Isabelle and Max are
kotowing to me. Bernhardt sent me a telegram of condolence--condolence!
He is a humorist, that boy.
Minister of the Royal House, Baron Seydwitz, called twice. The Royal
Adjutant, General von Carlowitz, spoke of the possibility of giving
Bernhardt a command in Dresden. Von Baumann says it was the President of
the Police who insisted upon Lucretia's hasty departure. If he, Baumann,
had his way, my maid of honor would have got off with a warning.
And you should see the Tisch. She must have spent a month's salary on
flowers for me, which I promptly sent to the nearest pauper hospital.
She smiles, she nearly breaks her back genuflexing. Her every second
word is "most submissive," "will the Imperial Highness deign to do
this," that, or the other thing.
The terror got into her old bones and she trembles for her pension,
for, of course, she knows that instant dismissal will be her portion.
Frederick Augustus talks of having some more princes and--acts
accordingly. Perish the thought that his Louise is an adulteress, that
she ever had a lover, has one now!
He is haunting my room, running from door to window, from window to
door. Every little while he opens the _portieres_ to see if no one's
coming to address him "Your Majesty."
"Your popularity with the public is a great asset," he says over and
over again. "Lucky devil I, to have a wife as smart as you."
* * * * *
DRESDEN, _November 2, 1902_.
Frederick Augustus came running into my room and gave me a bear-hug.
"The doctors say the King is lost. Impossible to keep him alive any
longer."
He rushed out.
I am Queen.
* * * * *
_After Lunch._
Just back from Richard's studio. We had lunch together. We laughed, we
danced, we sang. We bombarded one another with pillows.
We acted the jubilant heirs. I recalled Sybillenort at the time King
Albert died. In Saxony, when man or woman shuffles off this mortal coil,
there's always a good "feed" at the corpse's expense. At the late King's
castle a "mourning breakfast" was served upon the royal family's arrival
from Dresden--a most magnificent repast in the matter of plate and
victuals offered, but each had to serve himself or herself, as servants
were dispensed with.
This by the new King's special orders--that he might hear himself
addressed "Your Majesty" by his kith and kin, a formality usually
neglected in the family circle except when two or more of the big-wigs
are warring against each other.
"Will Your Majesty have one or two lumps of sugar?"
"May it please Your Majesty--some steak?"
"I hope Your Majesty will allow me to peel an orange for Your Majesty."
Thus at Sybillenort. And at Richard's:
"Will Your Greatness (Majesty) deign to take Your Greatness's feather
out of my eye?"
Or: "May it never please Your Transparency (_Durchlaucht_, German for
Highness) to let _His_ Greatness see through you."
I am several times a Countess besides a Princess, Duchess, etc., and
Richard continued with his paraphrasing of titles:
"Your Illuminatedness[8] makes lights quite unnecessary," and he
switched them off in a room already darkened by blinds and shades and
curtains.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 8: "Illuminated" is the proper title for German counts of the
higher class.]