ometimes
use in their clubs, but never towards a mistress they half-way respect.

My father-in-law, Prince George, is a pest of another kind. While
Frederick Augustus is jovial and rude, George is rude and serene of a
serenity that would make a Grand Inquisitor look gay.

One of my famous ancestresses, the Princess-Palatine, sister-in-law of
Louis the Fourteenth, once boxed the Dauphin's ears for a trick he
played on her, by putting his upright thumb in the centre of an armchair
which her royal highness meant to sit on.

Whenever I behold George's funereal visage, I long to repeat the
Dauphin's undignified offense. I would like to see this royal parcel of
melancholy jump and dance; change that ever-frowning and mournful aspect
of his. Indeed, I would like to treat him to one of the anecdotes that
made the Duchess de Berri explode with laughter.

Frederick Augustus lives in deadly fear of him, and never gets his hair
cut without first considering whether his father will approve or not.
George isn't happy unless he renders other people unhappy. I actually
believe he would rather meddle with the angels' or devils' affairs than
say his prayers, though he is a bigot of the most advanced stripe.

Sometimes when the itch for meddling has hold of him, he cites all the
married princes of the royal house and lectures them on the wickedness
of having no children, winding up by commanding each one to explain, in
detail, his failure to have offspring.

Of course, these gentlemen put the blame on their wives, whereupon the
ladies are forthwith summoned to be threatened and cajoled.

Prince George had the great goodness to approve of my baby and to
congratulate me, also to set me up as an example for Isabelle. When I
return to Dresden I shall be made Colonel of Horse.

Twice has George kissed me,--upon my arrival in Saxony and five days
after the birth of my child. It felt like a piece of gritty ice rubbing
against my forehead.

CHAPTER III

WEEPING WILLOW--EMBLEM ROYAL

A pious fraud--Theresa Mayer--Character of the Queen--Mopishness
rampant.

CASTLE WACHWITZ, _March 1, 1893_.

Prince Max came unexpectedly. He is studying for the priesthood and
looks more sour than his father even. I was in bed, nursing a sick
headache, but presuming upon his future clerical dignity, he walked in
without ceremony and sat down on a chair near my bed. Then he raised his
hands in prayer and announced that he had come