him off. He stood his ground and smiled.

"The Grand March has begun, Your Majesty."

"Bother the Grand March."

The King began to bombard me with ungracious, glances, and of course
everybody stared. Three times I asked the big booby to return to his
carriage to oblige his host. "Not while I may look at you, adored one."

His love-making became desperate. The Crown Princess of Saxony, the
Imperial Highness of Austria, the "adored one" of this butcher, who was
ruining twenty-five thousand marks' worth of carpets in his apartments
at our palace by using them as a shambles to prepare his breakfast of
lamb stew. It was contemptible,--nay, ridiculous. Surely there was
nothing to do but laugh. And I laughed and laughed again.

Only when the last battalion had marched by and the music ceased, the
"King of kings" returned to his carriage and drove back to Dresden with
the most bored looking visage of the world.

CHAPTER XXX

MY LIFE AT COURT BECOMES UNBEARABLE

Laughter a crime--Disappointed Queen lays down the law for my
behavior--Frederick Augustus sometimes fighting drunk--Draws sword
on me--Prince George would have me beaten--To bed with his boots on.

DRESDEN, _January 5, 1895_.

Ever since the Shah left I have been the object of criticism, suspicions
and down-right attacks by the pretty family I married into. These pages
witness that I tried to conform to the absurd notions and comply with
the narrow-minded idiosyncrasies of the Royal Wettiners. I give it up.
It can't be done, and I won't make another effort at pleasing my
relatives-in-law, who adjudge laughter a crime and the desire to make
friends a bid of lewdness.

Prince George invented the phrase, "Louise is over-desirous to please,"
and Queen Carola paid me a state visit to acquaint me with the new
indictment.

"Good gracious," I said to Her Majesty, "is that all? I thought of being
accused of 'sassing' the Archangel Gabriel. As to desire to please,
that's exactly what ails me. I love to please. I love to see people
happy. I love to make friends."

"My dear child," said the Queen, "you haven't the slightest notion of
royal dignity. You talk like a _cocotte_. It's a Princess's place to be
honored, to be held in supreme esteem."

Poor old woman! She was never pretty, never was made love to, never had
admirers, legitimate or otherwise; she thus became impregnated with the
fixed idea that to be fair and to be loved for one's fai