We acted the jubilant heirs. I recalled Sybillenort at the time King Albert died. In Saxony, when man or woman shuffles off this mortal coil, there's always a good "feed" at the corpse's expense. At the late King's castle a "mourning breakfast" was served upon the royal family's arrival from Dresden--a most magnificent repast in the matter of plate and victuals offered, but each had to serve himself or herself, as servants were dispensed with. This by the new King's special orders--that he might hear himself addressed "Your Majesty" by his kith and kin, a formality usually neglected in the family circle except when two or more of the big-wigs are warring against each other. "Will Your Majesty have one or two lumps of sugar?" "May it please Your Majesty--some steak?" "I hope Your Majesty will allow me to peel an orange for Your Majesty." Thus at Sybillenort. And at Richard's: "Will Your Greatness (Majesty) deign to take Your Greatness's feather out of my eye?" Or: "May it never please Your Transparency (_Durchlaucht_, German for Highness) to let _His_ Greatness see through you." I am several times a Countess besides a Princess, Duchess, etc., and Richard continued with his paraphrasing of titles: "Your Illuminatedness[8] makes lights quite unnecessary," and he switched them off in a room already darkened by blinds and shades and curtains. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 8: "Illuminated" is the proper title for German counts of the higher class.] CHAPTER LXIII WHAT I WILL DO WHEN I AM QUEEN A foretaste: titled servants put me _en route_ for lover--The bargain I will propose to Frederick Augustus--Frederick Augustus will be a complaisant King--To revive _Petit Trianon_--I am addressed as Queen. DRESDEN, _November 3, 1902_. Though still styled Crown Princess, I am already revelling in the delights and perquisites of queenship: I do as I please, go where I please, I would think aloud, as I please, if anyone dared me. For all my enemies of a week ago turned flatterers and flunkeys, bowing, grovelling, fawning, contemptible in their self-abasement, but quite useful to my purposes. Like most royal palaces, ours at Dresden has a secret staircase and exit for emergencies. It is never used by ladies; only the princes have recourse to it, occasionally, to drop out of sight in _mufti_, for, of course, royal incognito is more or less legitimate. "In the evening, after our card party was over, Catherine was seen to dismiss her court and retire to her private apartments with the new favorite," say the Secret Memoirs of the Court of St. Petersburg. Less publicly, perhaps, but even more illegitimately, I walk the secret staircase _en route_ for my lover whenever I please nowadays. I go veiled and--make the Grand Mistress open the door for me. She knows that I am on sweet pleasure bent and--smiles. "When will Your Imperial Highness deign to return?"