With my fancies focussed on
my lover, I leaned back in my armchair, gazing at the rising moon. My
word, at that moment I was lost to everything.

I half-awoke from my dream when I heard Bernhardt rise. A moment later I
felt his eyes prowling over my body. Then a shadow darkened my face and
Bernhardt said with a strange quaver in his voice:

"_Cherchez la femme._ You are the woman, Louise, you and none else."

And wild, forbidden kisses burned on my face, on my neck, on my breasts.
Both hands claimed a lover's liberties.

I was taken completely unawares; in my mind of minds I was in the
Countess's pavilion, receiving Henry's caresses. All sense of location
had vanished. And, thinking of my lover, I clasped both arms about
Bernhardt's neck and drew him to me. We kissed like mad. The love feast
for Henry became Bernhardt's in the twinkling of an eye.

Whether he felt like a thief, I don't know; for my part my senses
responded to Henry, not to his substitute.

How long this embrace lasted, I don't know. Somebody, or some noise,
caused us to separate.

I fled and locked myself in my room.

"Tell His Royal Highness he must excuse me. I can't see him before he
goes away. Say I have a headache, or the gout, I don't care which," I
commanded Lucretia next morning.

The previous night I had denied myself to Frederick Augustus, though he
entreated and raved.

While I appreciate the arch-Lais's _bon mot_ that "one can't judge of a
family by a single specimen," which made Ninon talk of her lovers _not_
as Coligny, Villarceau, Sevigne, Conde, d'Albret, etc., but as _les_
Rochefoucaults, _les_ d'Effiats, _les_ Condes, _les_ Sevignes, etc., I
was determined not to betray Henry by the whole House of Saxony in a
single twelve-hours.

I wonder whether this Bernhardt loves me? Perhaps, on his part, it was
the longing for the girl he adores, as, on mine, it was longing for
Henry that drew us together with electric force. And, of course,
environment had something to do with it: moon, opportunity, Frederick
Augustus's indolent _gaucherie_. Yes, why deny it, the good dinner we
had, the champagne.

CHAPTER XLVIII

GRAND MISTRESS TELLS HUSBAND I KEEP A DIARY

He wants to see it, but seems unsuspecting--Grand Mistress denies
that she meant mischief, but I upbraid her unmercifully--Threaten to
dismiss her like a thieving lackey.

LOSCHWITZ, _May 1, 1901_.

Frederick Augustus leaves tomorrow. Forever, I