FAMILY COUNCIL AT CASTLE
Rendezvous at studio--State takes my children from me--Madhouse or
flight--I brought fifty-two trunks to the palace--Depart with small
satchel--If I attempt to see my children I'll be seized as "mad
woman"--Varying emotions of the last ten minutes--Threatening
shadows thrown on a curtain decide me--Ready for flight--Diary the
last thing to go into the satchel.
_At Night. Eleven O'clock._
They went into family council at six tonight and are still deliberating,
Andrew reports. The Tisch, he says, acts as secretary; His Majesty, of
course, presides.
Present are the Dowager Queen, Mathilde and Isabelle. Then Frederick
Augustus, Johann George, Max and Bernhardt. Baron George von Metzsch, a
high government and court functionary and my enemy, attends as legal
adviser to the King.
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
circumstance, 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 assumed 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