s insult to the only relative that
stood by him when in trouble?

Doubtless, he took his cue from the King, who cut me dead while, with
the rest, I thanked God for his recovery.

* * * * *

_November 20, 1902._

The Tisch is openly talking Sonnenstein. "The royal apartments are ready
for her reception," she let fall yesterday.

Old Andrew, my confidential servant, told me.

She shows me the face of a bull-dog about to spring at a victim, a
sea-green devil filled with vinegar and gall, but affects icy courtesy.

Frederick Augustus is down in the mouth. If he knows of any evil
intention against me, he evidently made up his mind to hold his tongue
and avoid scenes.

Richard keeps on saying: "Don't worry. After all, what can they do to
you?" He doesn't know, or doesn't want to understand that, while the law
holds out protection for all, from pedlars and vagabonds to and
including prime ministers, royalty itself is only technically above the
law; in _praxis_ we are beyond the benefits of all law, human and
otherwise.

To be sure, a Cit is sometimes unjustly treated, but with tenacity and a
small amount of courage, he finds his remedy in the courts and in the
press.

To royal princes and princesses the King is both judge and executioner,
as the cases of the Duke of Saxony and Bernhardt show. Maybe it pleases
His Majesty to cloak his tyranny by convoking a commission, but what of
it, since the commission is invariably made up of his creatures,
trained, if not commanded, to do the all-highest will and nothing but
the all-highest will?

As in days gone by, the poor "witch"--if she be young and comely--must
face her accusers naked, the sworn torturer at her elbow, so I have no
standing in law or decency before the Powers over social life or death
in our sphere of society.

If there be blemishes in my character, the King sees them magnified by
the sharp tongues of evil creatures, his spies. There is no privacy. I
must submit to be stared at, to have my flesh lacerated by curious eyes,
and, as in the case of the old-time "witches," the handsomest were
condemned the quicker because "the devil was more liable to choose them
for an abode than ugly ones," so my very beauty will hasten my
destruction.

CHAPTER LXV

FISTICUFFS DON'T SAVE MY CROWN

The attempted theft of my Diary--Grand Mistress discovered after
breaking open my desk--Reading Diary like mad--Personal en