Artaviraf, the founder of a great ancient religion, married no less than seven of his sisters--because "there were no other women worthy of the honor." According to that, the aristocracy of old must have been as rotten as that of our day. Lucretia is the only person I trust, and they would have robbed me of her services long ago if my marriage contract did not vest the power of dismissal in me. Unlike me, she can afford to defy the King's wrath. CHAPTER LI COLD RECEPTION--ENEMIES ALL AROUND Frederick Augustus gives his views on adultery--Doesn't care personally, but "the King knows"--"Thank God, the King is ill"--I am deprived of my children--Have I got the moral strength to defy my enemies? PILLNITZ, _May 20, 1901_. I am undone. That malicious Tisch woman holds me in the hollow of her hand. I dropped into a sea of ice when I set foot in the castle. Long faces, suspicious looks, frigidity everywhere. The King treats me like a criminal. I wonder the guards don't refuse their _spiel_ at my coming and going. * * * * * PILLNITZ, _May 21, 1901_. Frederick Augustus arrived. He doesn't say for how long, and acts the icicle in the presence of others. At night he seeks his "rights," seeks them brutally. This afternoon he said to me: "That you made me a cuckold isn't exactly killing me; this sort of thing happened to better men than I, and--I was almost prepared for it. But to hear it announced from the King's lips----" Because His Majesty knows--Frederick Augustus raved and swore I had dishonored him. "If I wasn't a royal prince, I would be kicked out of the army," he whined. In short, adultery isn't so very reprehensible if the King doesn't know. Late tonight profound disquietude at court. The King is ill. Thank God, the audience I feared must be postponed. * * * * * PILLNITZ, _May 22, 1901_. It wasn't. His Majesty appointed Prince George his representative, and I received a command to call on him at ten sharp. I wrote on the Court Marshal's brutal invitation: "I refuse to see His Royal Highness." Ten minutes later the Tisch entered my apartment with a look of triumph on her hateful face. She handed me a letter on a golden plate and waited. "Your Ladyship is dismissed," I snapped. She didn't move: "I expect your Imperial Highness's commands with respect to the royal children," she said. "May it please Your Imperial Highness to read Prince George's letter." I tore open the envelope. His Majesty's representative "graciously permits me to see my children at nine in the morning and between five and six in the afternoon. At no other time, and never unless Baroness Tisch is in attendance." I threw the letter on the floor and trampled on it. "Get out," I commanded the Baroness. If she hadn't gone instantly, I believe I would have choked her.