back in the capital now and things are moving. Great doings had
been planned for our reception, for the re-entry of the little prince,
my baby, and his mother who is expected to give another child to Saxony
at the end of the year. Two babies in one year! I am going to beat the
German Empress, and if Wilhelm doesn't send me a medal I will cut him
dead the next time I see him!

Well, about that reception. Flags, triumphal arches, speeches by the
burgo-master, white-robed virgins at the station and all that sort of
thing!

But Father-in-law George said "no." Anything that gives joy to others
goes against his royal grain, gives him politico-economic dyspepsia. He
doesn't want me to be popular,--neither me, nor Frederick Augustus, nor
the baby.

George will be the next king, and if the Dresdeners or the Saxons want
to "_Hoch the King_," they must "_Hoch_" George. They MUST. "It's their
damned duty," says George the Pious, who never blasphemes on his own
account, but allows himself some license concerning his subjects. His
attitude recalls the story told of Frederick William the First of
Prussia, whose appearance on the streets of Berlin used to cause
passers-by to run to save their back. Upon one occasion His Majesty
caught one of these fugitives, and whacking him over the head with his
Spanish reed, cried angrily: "What do you want to run away from me for?"

"Because I'm afraid of your Royal Majesty," stuttered the poor devil.

"Afraid?" thundered Frederick William, giving the fellow another whack
with his cane. "Afraid?"--the beating continuing--"when I, your King,
commanded you to love me. Love me, you miserable coward, love God's
Anointed." And the loving Majesty broke his cane on the unloving
subject's back.

Two days before our arrival Prince George sent his adjutant, Baron de
Metsch-Reichenbeck, to the Mayor of Dresden, stopping all reception
arrangements contemplated.

To have children was a mere picnic to Her Imperial Highness, lied
George's messenger,--if the physicians hadn't used chloroform I would
have perished with the torture. Ovations intended as a sort of reward or
recognition of my services to the country, then, would be entirely out
of place, and must not be thought of.

The municipality thereupon officially abandoned preparations. I was a
little vexed when I first heard about George's meanness, yet again felt
tickled that he went out of his way to intrigue against me, the despised
little princes