"I got over my vexation," he said,--"got over it because I reflected that you are the Princess Royal and that I would be a fool to take your love seriously. Henceforth I will regard it a passing adventure and let it go at that, for if I thought it the great passion of my life, I would despair, indeed." "Find a closed cab," I whispered, my heart in my mouth; "I must see you alone. I will be at the northern side-exit in five minutes." Cabby was ordered to drive slowly along unfrequented side streets. We lowered the curtains. "So you don't love me?" I wailed. Burying my face on Richard's chest I cried as if my heart would break. "Not love you?" he breathed. "If I loved you not, I would die, Louise." "Then why those cruel words?" "Good heavens," he cried, "haven't I the right to be jealous? I said what I said to hear you say that you love me." "And you will always love me?" "Always, dearest," and he covered my face and neck with burning kisses. Ten minutes later I was again seated at the opera. I hear Frederick Augustus in the corridor. * * * * * DRESDEN, _August 16, 1902_. A horrible night. Lucky that Frederick Augustus was more than half drunk when he sought "His Imperial Pleasure-trove," as he likes to call me, for I often talk in my sleep and--I dreamt of Richard. I dreamt of my enemies, too. They stole him from me. He was of the past like Henry, Romano and the rest. In a second dream he jilted me--cast me off like a garment, old or out of fashion. Lucretia, who sleeps in the next room, heard me cry out in terror, heard me denounce the King, Tisch--everybody. And Frederick Augustus snored. * * * * * DRESDEN, _October 1, 1902_. Princes and noblemen have ever sought their own advantage of me. To them I was always the milch-cow, or Phryne, outright. Richard is poor. I offered him a considerable sum for one of his paintings. "Never again mention the matter," he said curtly. "But it would give me much pleasure to be of assistance to you." "Louise, we must separate if you don't stop that line of talk," he replied. And he means it. A day or two later I let fall, casually, that Frederick Augustus might buy the portrait of myself that was nearing completion under his skillful brush. "His Royal Highness won't have the chance," he cried fiercely. "I will tell him it isn't finished, or doesn't come up to my artistic standard, or something of the sort." CHAPTER LX THE DAY OF JUDGMENT LOOMS UP My Grand Mistress shows her colors--Richard advises flight--I hesitate on account of my children--My Grand Mistress steals a letter from Richard to me--I opine that an adulteress's word is as good as a thief's--I humble my Grand Mistress, but it won't do me much good--Pleasant hours at his studio. DRESDEN, _October 15, 1902_. That dreadful dream is becoming a heart-breaking reality.