and his staff, it
turned out, had taken that precaution, and the great man amused himself,
while the stream of royal inquiries poured on, by pointing at Mr.
Creevey from time to time with the remark, "Voila le monsieur qui n'a
pas dejeune!"

Settled down at last at Amorbach, the time hung heavily on the Duke's
hands. The establishment was small, the country was impoverished; even
clock-making grew tedious at last. He brooded--for in spite of his piety
the Duke was not without a vein of superstition--over the prophecy of
a gipsy at Gibraltar who told him that he was to have many losses and
crosses, that he was to die in happiness, and that his only child was
to be a great queen. Before long it became clear that a child was to be
expected: the Duke decided that it should be born in England. Funds were
lacking for the journey, but his determination was not to be set aside.
Come what might, he declared, his child must be English-born. A carriage
was hired, and the Duke himself mounted the box. Inside were the
Duchess, her daughter Feodora, a girl of fourteen, with maids, nurses,
lap-dogs, and canaries. Off they drove--through Germany, through
France: bad roads, cheap inns, were nothing to the rigorous Duke and the
equable, abundant Duchess. The Channel was crossed, London was reached
in safety. The authorities provided a set of rooms in Kensington Palace;
and there, on May 24, 1819, a female infant was born.

CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD

I

The child who, in these not very impressive circumstances, appeared
in the world, received but scant attention. There was small reason to
foresee her destiny. The Duchess of Clarence, two months before,
had given birth to a daughter, this infant, indeed, had died almost
immediately; but it seemed highly probable that the Duchess would
again become a mother; and so it actually fell out. More than this,
the Duchess of Kent was young, and the Duke was strong; there was every
likelihood that before long a brother would follow, to snatch her faint
chance of the succession from the little princess.

Nevertheless, the Duke had other views: there were prophecies... At any
rate, he would christen the child Elizabeth, a name of happy augury. In
this, however, he reckoned without the Regent, who, seeing a chance
of annoying his brother, suddenly announced that he himself would be
present at the baptism, and signified at the same time that one of the
godfathers was to be the Emperor Alexander of