st of, as must also be my desire to be
remembered at her hands.

"You will, of course, immediately perceive that I am
alluding to Donna Maria de Dolores de los Montez, Countess
of Landsfeld."

It was not until he turned over the page that the horror-struck
Bernstorff saw that the King was playing a characteristic jest on him;
and he realised that the intended recipient of the gift was his wife,
the Countess von Bernstorff, "as a souvenir of my gratitude for the
many agreeable hours passed under your hospitable roof last month."

CHAPTER X

BURSTING OF THE STORM

I

The beauty of Lola Montez was a lever. As such, it disturbed the
equilibrium of the Cabinet; for the time being, it even checked the
dominion of Rome. But the odds were against her. The Jesuits were
still a power, and would not brook any interference.

Metternich's wife, the Princess Melanie, who had the family _flair_
for politics, marked the course of events.

"Lola Montes," she wrote, "has actually been created Countess of
Landsfeld. She is really a member of the Radical Party.... Rechberg,
who has just arrived from Brazil, was alarmed on his journey at Munich
by the events of which this town is the theatre. The shocking conduct
of Lola Montes will finish by plunging the country into revolution."

This was looking ahead. Still, not very far ahead. The correspondent
of a London paper in the Bavarian capital did not mince his words.
"The indignation," he wrote, "against the King on account of his
scandalous conduct, has been roused to the highest pitch.... King
Ludwig, who possesses many good qualities, is, unfortunately, a very
licentious old man.... Neither the tears of the Queen, nor the
entreaties of his sons, nor the public's indignation, could influence
the old monarch, who has become the slave of his silly passion and of
the caprices of a Spanish dancer and Parisian lorette."

Once more, Ludwig "dropped into verse," and relieved his feelings
about his enemies. This time, however, the verse was blank:

You have driven me from my Paradise,
You have closed it for ever with iron grilles.
You have turned my days into bitterness.
You would even like to make me hate you
Because I have loved too much to please your withered spirits.

The perfume of my spring-time is dissipated,
But my courage still remains.
Youth, always bounding in my dreams, rests there,
Embracing my heart wit