The Drama of my Captivity and my Life as a Prisoner--The Commencement of Torture My misfortunes, alas! are known to the public all over the world. But it is not on me that they weigh most heavily. If calumny and persecution, assisted by the most powerful influences, have continually added blow upon blow, one truth, at least, is patent: _I was not_--_I am not_--_mad_, and those who endeavoured to affirm that I was insane, did so to their shame, and, I also hope, to their sorrow. "Nevertheless," it was said, "the princess is peculiar." Others, better informed, declared emphatically, "She is weak-minded." Not that, thank Heaven! My "expenditure," my "prodigality," my "debts," and "my relinquishing my interests and my will to my entourage" have all been objected to. Let us briefly discuss these "peculiarities" and these "weaknesses." It is perfectly true that at times I have been extravagant. I have said, and I still repeat, that this extravagance was a way of revenging myself for the constraints and pettiness of an oppressive avarice. It is true, as I have also admitted, that, as in the natural order of events I thought I should inherit a considerable fortune, I have been weak in some things and I have not resisted certain temptations. People talk of the fantastic sums of money which I have spent. I calculate that I have not disbursed ten millions of francs since 1897, the year when I made a bid for freedom. Higher figures have been given, but these are represented by the exaggerations of speculators and usurers sent by my enemies to help their case, and to bear witness of "follies" after having palmed off their worthless securities on me. Everyone knows the edifying story of the German creditor who appeared before the Court at Brussels deputed to pay my debts out of the funds accruing to me from the inheritance of the King, and put in a claim for seven million marks, which was reduced to nothing after due inquiry and verification of what he had really advanced and received. If I were to lower myself to write the story of the various manoeuvres against my independence, all with one object of placing me in such a position that I could neither live nor act, my readers would say: "It is impossible, she is romancing." But the most unlikely romances are not those which are published. Life alone reveals them. Reflect; I had to choose between slavery, imprisonment in a madhouse, or flight and, in consequence, an active defence of my personal rights. I fled, and I have defended myself. But, in order to capture and break me, my allowance was reduced to a mere pittance, and, later, even the means of getting my daily bread were cut off. I had lost the best of mothers; the King, deceived and irritated, but more politic than I in all that concerned me, placed appearances above the obligations of his conscience, and took no further interest in the cruel fate of his eldest daughter.