I do not forget that the German law would equally condemn what transpired between Belgium and the administrators of Niederfullbach, if I were to attack these persons before the Justice of Germany, as I could easily do. The two Germans who are included in the list of administrators have sensed danger so strongly, owing to their properties and positions being in Germany, that, in face of possible dangerous retaliations, they have sheltered themselves behind the Belgium State by the "arrangement" which they have accepted, and which has robbed my sisters and myself of considerable sums. I also know that the Royal Gift of 1901 is open to an attack in Belgium, based on the material error committed over the question of the disposable share of the King's property. But, really, it is too painful for me to think about this and to go into these details. I only give certain of them in order to show that I have resisted, and I shall still resist, assuring myself that if I have not found justice in Belgium I shall find it elsewhere. To speak with perfect frankness, I have suffered cruelly, and I still suffer on account of the strife in which I have been involved. When I occasionally re-read the pleadings of the talented lawyers who defended or attacked me over the question of the King's inheritance, a sort of faintness overcomes me. Before so many words, in the face of so many reasons for and against, I feel that all things except equity can be expected of mankind. It is positively stupefying for me to realize that three of my lawyers are Ministers, or are on the point of becoming Ministers, as I write these pages. I have only to take up their "pleadings" to hear the voice of their conscience proclaiming the justice of my cause, and accusing the State in which they are embodied to-day of collusion and fraud--in one word, of unqualified actions. Do they not remember what they said, wrote and published? I listen in vain for some words from them.... Nothing ... never a word. I am dead, so far as they are concerned. I am unhappy. They know it, and they keep silence. Never a thought, a memory for one who confided in them. They are in power--and I am in misery; they are living in their own country--I am an exile. They are _Men_, and I am a _Woman_. Oh, pettiness of the human soul! I think again of all that has been said and written against me in the land of my birth for which I was sacrificed. What errors, what exaggerations, what passions, what ignorance concerning my real self! Nevertheless, taken as individuals, those who attack me and defame me are really good and brave men at heart. But they rend one's soul. Do they not understand what they do?