ld take his boots off.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: Joanna I, Queen of Naples, a pupil of Petrarca and in many
respects an enlightened ruler. She issued the first laws and regulations
regarding prostitutes. Hanged by order of King Louis of Hungary, after
her defeat in battle, July, 1381.]

CHAPTER XXXI

PRISON FOR PRINCES THAT OPPOSE THE KING

Duke of Saxony banished--Cut off from good literature even--Anecdote
concerning the Grand Dauphin and his "kettledrums"--A royal prince's
garrison life--His association with lewd women.

DRESDEN, _September 1, 1895_.

I have once more come to the conclusion that the agreement I made with
Leopold, to dissimulate my real feelings, was the sanest decision I ever
formed, for, while _lettres de cachet_ are a dead measure as far as
ordinary mortals go, kings still wield that awful and mysterious abuse
of power in the family circle.

There is a distant connection of our "sublime master," the King,
lingering, without process of law, in a state prison. Duke of Saxony is
his title, and he is quite rich in his own right. Some six or eight
years ago he raised his hand against the King after the latter struck
him.

It was suggested that he had better make away with himself, and a
revolver and poison were conspicuously displayed in the room where he
was held captive.

The Duke said "nay." He thought he could "brass" it out. But the
assembled family council taught him that, while the world at large was
_fin-de-siecle_, royalty still lived in the traditions of the eighteenth
century. It empowered the King to banish his kinsman to a lonely country
house, styled castle by courtesy, and he is confined there even today,
with the proviso, though, that he may use the surrounding
hunting-grounds. Otherwise he lives in complete seclusion, separated not
only from all his friends, but from the very classes of society to which
he belongs by birth and education. And he is still a young man.

I believe they are trying to drive him mad, once as a punishment, and
again to secure his fortune the quicker. To the latter end, he is denied
all books that give him pleasure and are liable to improve his mind.
Bibles, Christian Heralds, the Lives of the Martyrs, or the Popes,
galore, but never a Carlyle, Shakespeare or Taine, which he demands
regularly.

The Duke is dying of _ennui_, they say, and to kill time engages in all
sorts of manual labor. When he gets tired of that he blows