Public opinion in Austria being extremely hostile, my executioner and his accomplices found it advisable to transfer me to a quiet and charming asylum in Saxony. I was therefore taken to Lindenhof, near the little town of Koswig in the midst of the forests, less than an hour's journey by rail from Dresden. Lindenhof! The actual meaning signifies "The Lime Trees of the Court." Calming lime trees! Charming lime trees! The name recalled to me "Unter den Linden" (Under the Lime Trees) at Berlin, and the obligations which I owed to my son-in-law and his family, who were now reassured by the knowledge of my captivity in Saxony. The inheritance of the King would not fall into my wasteful hands! No member of my entourage dear to me was allowed to remain with me. My good Countess Fugger was forced to leave me from morning till night to the care of my jailers. By way of compensation those at Lindenhof were supposed to treat me with all the deference due to my rank. Fear of public opinion is the beginning of wisdom where princes are concerned. It was impossible for anyone now to say, as in the case of my former experiences, that I was not treated as a princess and a king's daughter. I had a separate house, a carriage, maids, and a companion! I was allowed to go out when Dr. Pierson, the medical superintendent, thought it advisable. But my house was surrounded by the walls of a madhouse; the coachman and footman were policemen; the companion only occupied that position in order to keep me a prisoner and make voluminous reports about all that I said or did. My cage was certainly gilded, and it possessed various outlets on the country and the adjacent town. But, all the same, it was a tomb, and I realized that I was dead to all those who had once known me, beginning with the members of my own family. I have said that, ashamed of the crime to which they had tacitly consented, my relations allowed years to pass before they came to see the "invalid." It was only when public opinion censured their heartless behaviour that they decided to visit me. The indignation against the wickedness of the punishment meted out to Count Mattachich had become stronger than the power that desired to crush him. In mentioning him, the Press remembered my existence. It was then that my daughter and my aunt, the Comtesse de Flandre, came to see me, and my sister Stéphanie gave some sign of life. I had lost my beloved mother without seeing her again. Her letters--although at the same time good and cruel--were my most cherished relics. But whenever I read them my heart was torn, as I felt that my mother had been convinced that I was really insane. As for the King--alas!--he sent me no word. Doubtless his mind, like that of the Queen, had been poisoned--was he, too, not certain of the count's guilt? What guile had not been employed in his case! In order to play my husband's and my son-in-law's game it was necessary to make my father believe absolutely in our "crimes."