permission to dissolve our
marriage." And that nothing might be lacking to Natalie's suffering and
humiliation, he sent General Protitsch to Wiesbaden with a peremptory
demand that his son, "Sacha," should return to Servia.

In vain did Natalie protest against both indignities. Milan might
divorce her; but at least he should not rob her of her son, the only
solace left to her in life. And when General Protitsch, seeing that
milder measures were futile, gave orders for the Prince to be removed by
force, the distracted mother flung one protecting arm round her boy;
and, pointing a loaded pistol with the other, threatened to shoot dead
the man who dared approach her.

Opposition, however, was futile; the following evening the boy-Prince
was in his father's arms, and the weeping mother was left disconsolate.
Thus robbed of her darling "Sacha," it was not long before the second
blow fell. The divorce proceedings were rushed through the Synod. A deaf
ear was turned to Natalie's petition to be allowed, at least, to defend
herself in person; and on the 12th October, 1888, the "marriage between
King Milan I. and Natalie, born Ketschko," was formally dissolved. Well
might this most unhappy of Queens write, "The position is embittered by
my conscience assuring me that I have neglected no duty, and that there
is not a single action of my life which could be cited against me as a
grave offence, or could put me to shame were it brought before the whole
world. My fate should draw tears from the very stones; but I do not ask
for pity; I demand justice."

If anything could have increased Milan's unpopularity it was this brutal
treatment of his Queen. The very men who, at his coronation, had taken
off their cloaks that he might walk on them, and the women who had
kissed his garments, now hissed him in the streets of his capital. In
his own Court he had no friend except the infamous Christitch; the
general hatred even took the form of repeated attempts on his life. If
he would save it, he realised he must abandon his crown; and one March
morning in 1889, after informing his ministers of his intention to
abdicate, he awoke his twelve-year-old son with the greeting, "Good
morning, Your Majesty!" Milan was no longer King of Servia; his son,
Alexander, reigned in his stead.

Probably no King ever laid down his crown more willingly. He had put
aside for ever his Royal trappings, with all their unhappy memories, and
their present discomfor