DRESDEN, _July 1, 1902_. King George is determined I shall stay in Dresden to end the newspaper talk about trouble in the bosom of the royal family. He engaged a new head-tutor for my little brood. Monsieur Giron, a Belgian of good family. "I would be pleased if you attended the children's lessons and reported to me on the method of the new man," he said. "You are so intellectual, Louise, you will find out quickly if M. Giron is not what he is represented to be." I promised, for, after all, I owed so much to the King and my children. Alas, it was fate! * * * * * DRESDEN, _July 1, After Midnight_. He is tall, well made, and his wild, Grecian eyes fascinate me. He is conscious of self, but modest. His voice is sweet and sonorous, his eyes are bright with intellect. Speaking eyes! I asked him to visit my apartments at the conclusion of school hours. He told me he was a painter as well as a teacher of languages. "Would you like to paint me?" "I am dying for a chance to reproduce your loveliness as far as my poor art permits." He told me he had a studio in town, where he is known under his artist's _pseudonyme_, Richard. "How romantic! I'd like to see it," I said impulsively. "Several ladies and gentlemen of society sat for portraits at my studio here and at home." In short we arranged that he paint my picture and that I should go to his studio, where the light is excellent. * * * * * DRESDEN, _July 15, 1902_. I am happy once more. Those hours at Richard's studio are the sweetest of my life. Lucretia acts the protecting angel as usual. Richard calls her Justice because she is "blind." When she is along, I drive boldly up to the door in one of the court carriages. Sometimes, when I can sneak out of the palace for a little while unobserved, I go alone in a cab. How long this sort of thing can go on without discovery, I know not. As to what will happen afterwards, I care not. If I was told that tomorrow I would be caught in my lover's arms and banished to a lone island for life, I would go to his studio just the same. * * * * * DRESDEN, _August 1, 1902_. Richard is moulding my character. I, once so proud of rank and station, I, who upheld the Wettiners' robbery of a poor, defenseless woman, the Duke's wife, because Socialistic papers spoke in her favor,--Louise now allows anarchistic tendencies to be poured in her ears. She almost applauds them. This easy change from one extreme to the other at a lover's behest is one of the things that make woman's rule--or co-rule--as the male's political equal--impossible. It's a sort of _Phallus_ worship that always was and always will be. "Though women have not unfrequently been the holders of temporary and precarious power, there are not many instances where they have held secure and absolute dominion," says Dr. William W. Ireland in his famous "Blot upon the Brain."