PILLNITZ, _September 10, 1900_.

I must give some additional account of our first meeting at the court
ball. Ah, I was the hussy for fair! He couldn't help seeing the
impression he made upon me. My eyes must have reflected it in letters of
flame. I wish he were as bold as the _Duc_, who slept on a pillow
stuffed with the hair of his mistresses, past and present.

I never made such advances to any man. I was gone clean off my head.

When he reddened and when his left hand, resting on the hilt of his
sword, trembled, I became intoxicated.

And I danced with him, and I was angry with myself for lacking the
courage to say: "Feel my heart beat." My great-great-aunt and namesake,
Marie Antoinette, did and won the love of her life,--Fersen.

But we _fin de siecle_ women are cowards. All I said to him was: "I must
see you tonight. Arrange with Lucretia."

* * * * *

DRESDEN, _September 30, 1900_.

Summer heat continues, but no country-seat for me! The town is a much
safer place for lovers, and old Countess Baranello keeps open house for
us all the year round. We meet daily. I persuaded Henry's colonel that
the lieutenant would never be a courtier unless he saw more of court
life and was relieved, to a certain extent, of duties on the drill
ground.

We see each other mornings or afternoons at the Countess's. The evenings
we spend at the theatre together, I in the box, he in the _fauteuil_
once sacred to Romano. Every Saturday afternoon we concoct the
repertoire for the week following, and he goes at once to secure tickets
for the various entertainments I intend to visit for his sake.

* * * * *

DRESDEN, _October 1, 1900_.

I wish I had never loved any man before Henry. I wish he had known me as
an innocent girl. I wish I wasn't royal. Then I could get a divorce and
marry him, but now, if I got ten divorces, he would always be the
insignificant Baron, I the Princess of the Blood.

And I couldn't see my love humiliated!

As a talisman he wears on his chest a golden locket with my miniature.
In exchange he gave me a _Portebonheur_ with his picture and a few sweet
words.

So help me, God, I am in love with this man,--love him to the verge of
poetry. Indeed, I am writing silly verse in his honor, and later haven't
the courage to show it to him. _Par example_:

I want you most, dear, when the sunset bright
Makes of the hills a glo