brain filled with the importance of
feminine liberty of thought and action. Hence, she became the bramble
that prodded the grand duke whichever way he turned. His days were
filled with horrors, his nights with mares which did not have
box-stalls in his stables.

Never could he anticipate her in anything. On that day he placed
guards around the palace she wrote verses or read modern fiction; the
moment he relaxed his vigilance she was away on some heart-rending
escapade. Didn't she scandalize the nobility by dressing up as a
hussar and riding her famous black Mecklenburg cross-country? Hadn't
she flirted outrageously with the French attache and deliberately
turned her back on the Russian minister, at the very moment, too, when
negotiations were going on between Russia and Barscheit relative to a
small piece of land in the Balkans? And, most terrible of all to
relate, hadn't she ridden a shining bicycle up the Koenigsstrasse, in
broad daylight, and in bifurcated skirts, besides? I shall never
forget the indignation of the press at the time of this last escapade,
the stroke of apoplexy which threatened the duke, and the room with the
barred window which the princess occupied one whole week.

They burned the offensive bicycle in the courtyard of the palace,
ceremoniously, too, and the princess had witnessed this solemn _auto da
fe_ from her barred window. It is no strain upon the imagination to
conjure up the picture of her fine rage, her threatening hands, her
compressed lips, her tearless, flashing eyes, as she saw her beautiful
new wheel writhe and twist on the blazing fagots. But what the deuce
was a poor duke to do with a niece like this?

For a time I feared that the United States and the Grand Duchy of
Barscheit would sever diplomatic relations. The bicycle was,
unfortunately, of American make, and the manufacturers wrote to me
personally that they considered themselves grossly insulted over the
action of the duke. Diplomatic notes were exchanged, and I finally
prevailed upon the duke to state that he held the wheel harmless and
that his anger had been directed solely against his niece. This letter
was duly forwarded to the manufacturers, who, after the manner of their
kind, carefully altered the phrasing and used it in their magazine
advertisements. They were so far appeased that they offered me my
selection from the private stock. Happily the duke never read anything
but the _Fliegende Blaetter_ an