nhardt for
months past. He managed the coveted boon only by the intervention of
various high generals and the threat to appeal to the Kaiser.

The Royal House of Saxony, while compelled to recognize William as
War-Lord, doesn't court his interference, or attempted interference, in
matters military.

Flushed with this initial success and expecting lots of good things in
the future, Bernhardt was bent upon having a good time. He drank with
Frederick Augustus, made love to Lucretia and squeezed the chambermaids
on his floor to his heart's content.

To me he was the most gallant of cousins and, glad to contribute to the
happiness of the poor fellow, I gave him plenty of rope, perhaps too
much.

On the second day of his stay we had a very merry dinner, having
dispensed for the time with titled servants.

After dinner the three of us retired to the veranda. I was in a rocker,
showing perhaps more of my ankles than was absolutely necessary.
Frederick Augustus was smoking dreamily. Like an animal he likes to
sleep after he has gorged himself.

Bernhardt, with my permission, had thrown himself on a wicker lounge and
was absorbing cigarettes at a killing rate. I bantered him on his
laziness. But he only sighed.

"You wish that audience was past and forgotten," I asked.

"Pshaw, I'm thinking of something prettier than the King."

Remembering Bernhardt's chief weakness, I indulged in the old joke,
"_Cherchez la femme_."

Bernhardt replied, with another succession of groans, "You are right,
Louise; _parfaitement, cherchez la femme_."

"Egads," grunted Frederick Augustus, glad for an excuse to go to his
room, or play a game of pinochle with his aides, "egads, if you indulge
in intellectualities, I had better go. A full stomach and French
conversation--whew!"

The Tisch was in Dresden; _Fraeulein_ von Schoenberg with the children,
Lucretia flirting somewhere at a neighboring country chalet. We were
alone on the remote terrace and it was getting dark. Bernhardt sat up
and looked at me with eyes of life-giving fire, but continued silent.

"You want me to think that you command the rays of the sun stolen by
Prometheus?"

He answered not, but sought to burn the skin of my neck and bosom by
those Prometheus rays.

Now, in the morning I got a note from Henry, and I had been thinking of
the dear boy every minute. I was longing for him; my heart, my senses
were crying for him.

I forgot Bernhardt; I forgot all around me.