The day after this the chief steward and the housekeeper and both my maids came to me and said that they wished to give notice. I asked them why. They said they couldn’t possibly live in a house where there were such “goings-on.” I asked them what they meant. They refused to say, but they hinted that Papa’s men were behaving not only in an insolent but in a positively outrageous manner to them. The steward said that Papa’s knights were never sober, that they had entirely demoralized the household, and that life was simply not worth living in the house; it was _impossible_ to get anything done, and they couldn’t sleep at night for the noise. I went to Papa and talked to him about it quite quietly, but no sooner had I mentioned the subject than he lost all self-control, and began to abuse me. I kept my temper as long as I could, but of course one is only human, and after I had borne his revilings for some time, which were monstrously unfair and untrue, I at last turned and said something about people of his age being trying. Upon which he said that I was throwing up his old age at him, that I was a monster of ingratitude--and he began to cry. I cannot tell you how painful all this was to me. I did everything I could to soothe him and quiet him, but the truth is, ever since Papa has been here he has lost control of his wits. He suffers from the oddest kind of delusions. He thinks that for some reason he is being treated like a beggar; and although he has a hundred knights--a hundred, mind you! (a great deal more than we have)--in the house, who do nothing but eat and drink all day long, he says he is not being treated like a King! I do hate unfairness. When he gave up the crown he said he was tired of affairs, and meant to have a long rest; but from the very moment that he handed over the management of affairs to us he never stopped interfering, and was cross if he was not consulted about everything, and if his advice was not taken. And what is still worse is this: ever since his last illness he has lost not only his memory but his control over language, so that often when he wants to say one thing he says just the opposite, and sometimes when he wishes to say some quite simple thing he uses _bad_ language quite unconsciously. Of course we are used to this, and _we_ don’t mind, but I must say it is very awkward when strangers are here. For instance, the other day before quite a lot of people, quite unconsciously, he called me a dreadful name. Everybody was uncomfortable and tried not to laugh, but some people could not contain themselves. This sort of thing is constantly happening. So you will understand that Papa needs perpetual looking after and management. At the same time, the moment one suggests the slightest thing to him he boils over with rage.