The note was a forged document, confessedly by the Countess von Platen, when confession came too late for the repair of evil which could not be undone. Nevertheless, the count, on presenting himself to Mademoiselle Knesebeck, the lady of honour to the princess, was admitted to the presence of the latter. This indiscreet step was productive of terrible consequences to all the three who were present. The count, on being asked to explain the reason of his seeking an interview with the princess at an advanced hour of the evening, produced the note of invitation, which Sophia Dorothea at once pronounced to be a forgery. Had they then separated little of ill consequence might have followed. The most discreet of the three, and the most perplexed at the ‘situation,’ was the lady of honour. The ‘Memoirs’ which bear her name, and which describe this scene, present to us a woman of some weakness, yet one not wanting in discernment. Sophia Dorothea, it would seem, could dwell upon no subject but that of her domestic troubles, the cruel neglect of her husband, and her desire to find somewhere the refuge from persecution which had been denied to her in her old home at Zell. More dangerous topics could not have been treated by two such persons. The count, it is affirmed, was the first to suggest that Paris would afford her such a refuge, and that he should be but too happy to be permitted to give her such protection as she could derive from his escort thither. This was probably rather hinted than suggested; but however that may be, only one course should have followed even a distant hint leading to so unwarrantable an end. The interview should have been brought to a close. It was still continued, nevertheless, to the annoyance, if not scandal, of the faithful Knesebeck, whose fears may have received some little solace on hearing her mistress reiterate her desire to find at least a temporary home at the court of her cousin, Duke Anton Ulrich of Wolfenbüttel.