the trombone.

"Of course he would prefer a pair of kettledrums," said my cousin
Bernhardt of Weimar, to whom I am indebted for the above.

"Kettledrums?" I asked.

"I mean those the Grand Dauphin, called 'Son of a king, father of a
king, never a king,' was so fond of, and which he finally married in
secret."

I looked bewildered.

"You are a very ignorant girl," said Bernhardt. "Never heard of the
prodigious bosoms of _Mademoiselle_ Chouin?"

"They won't let the Duke marry?" I queried.

"Not even temporarily," said Bernhardt. "And they are trying the same
game on me. My garrison--a dung-heap. The people there, males and
females, entirely unacquainted with soap and water. Nothing in the world
to do but drink and gamble."

"That reminds me. What are you doing in Dresden?"

"With Your Imperial Highness's permission, I came to see my girl."

"Who is the lady?"

"No lady at all. Just an ordinary servant-wench, but prettier and more
devilish than a hundred of them."

"Bernhardt!"

"What would you have me do, Louise? I haven't money enough to keep a
mistress, and King and Queen certainly won't keep one for me. I wish I
had lived a hundred and fifty years ago, when every lady of the court
was expected to entertain the royal princes, the Palace footing the
bill."

CHAPTER XXXII

PRINCE GEORGE SHOWN THE DOOR BY GRAND-DUCHESS MELITA

A royal lady who walks her garden attired in a single diaphanous
garment--Won't stand for any meddling--Called impertinent--My
virtuous indignation assumed--A flirtation at a distance--An
audacious lover--The Grand Mistress hoodwinked--Matrimonial horns
for Kaiser--The banished Duke dies--Princes scolded like
school-boys.

DRESDEN, _February 5, 1896_.

At last Prince George got his deserts, and got 'em good and heavy. There
had been rumors for some time that Grand-duke Ernest Ludwig and his
bride, Victoria Melita of Saxe-Coburg, the English branch, didn't get
along together. Ernest Ludwig is a serious-minded, modest and
intelligent man, but a good deal of a sissy. Victoria Melita is a
spit-fire, very good-looking and anxious to let people know about it.
She rides horseback and fences to show off her figure, and someone
called her a Centaur.

"Be in the palace gardens tomorrow at eleven," answered Melita, "and you
will be convinced that I am not half-horse, even if my husband is a
ninny."

She kept the _rendezvous_, attired in a single