sentatives, Frederick Augustus
and I, and were obliged to say a few nothingnesses to a hundred paltry
persons or more. When the Ambassador introduced Count Bielsk, I said in
the most careless voice of the world, "I hear you love the theatre,
Count."

"I don't care a rap for the theatre," he replied. "I go to opera and
operetta simply to see you, Imperial Highness."

Such audacity! And he spoke quite loud.

Frightened, I turned to the next person presented, saying something
imbecile, no doubt.

Later I withdrew upon the dais to watch the dancing, and at a moment
when I was quite alone, he came up to me, making it appear as if I had
commanded his attendance.

"I have much to say to Your Imperial Highness."

I didn't have my wits about me and didn't know how to act. He repeated
twice or oftener: "Pray, Your Imperial Highness, I have something to say
to you," until, at last, I threw etiquette to the winds and asked:

"Why should you wish to talk to me in private, Count?" No royal woman
indulging in lovers ever encouraged a rogue more carelessly.

"Because my life and happiness depend on what I have to say to you."

And, weaker still, I assented by the tone of my voice rather than words:
"You make me curious, Count. Whatever you have to say, say it now."

He raised his eyes to me, with a soul and reputation-destroying look.
"Thanks!" Then wildly, clamorously: "Louise, I love you."

Instinctively I thought of flight, but his eyes wouldn't let me rise.
From that moment on he dropped my title.

"Stay," he whispered, "I beseech you, stay. Don't you see that I love
you to distraction? I have kept silent these many months. Now I must
talk. I love thee, Louise."

I tried in vain to collect my thoughts while his love talk fanned my
blood. Finally I managed to say: "Can't you see that you are playing _va
banque_?"

"I know, but it doesn't interest me. Let my career be wrecked, I care
not; I've got only one thought in the world--thee, only one wish--thee.
And I must either love thee or die."

I turned my eyes away and rose abruptly. As he bowed to kiss my hand, he
whispered, still "_thou'ing_" me: "I expect you tomorrow at the end of
the Grand Boulevard. Come when you please. I will wait all day."

* * * * *

And here I am thinking, thinking, thinking.

"The end of the Boulevard" is the beginning of Dresden's _Bois_. Does
this madman really suppose that Her Imperial Highness, the Cr