A man whose carnal side only you know, a poor man, an artist without fame, a professional without future. Sadly perturbed in mind, I walk to the window. Those of His Majesty's cabinet, where the family council is in progress, are directly opposite. Shadows of men and women, rising from a sitting position, are thrown on the curtains. One of the shades slowly ascends. I see the Tisch pointing a bony finger to the windows of my boudoir. Von Metzsch stands by her side. They grin. You triumph, wretch and Jezebel? But when your _sbirri_, in an hour from now, or tomorrow morning early, invade my rooms, instructed to carry me away--bound hand and foot to a sofa, or in a straight jacket, perhaps--they will find the Crown Princess gone--her and her Diary. Both will be safe on foreign soil ere you can make arrangements for organized pursuit, for Richard and I will travel by carriage to a distant suburb, there mount the fast express and keep to our state room, engaged under an assumed name, until without the sphere of Saxon or German influence. * * * * * A discreet knock. Andrew, my liberator! In his hand a tallow dip to light this Imperial Highness down back stairs to the new life of her choice. "One moment, old man, this book goes into the valise. "Hand me the blotter, please. Tears won't do. "And a couple more handkerchiefs from the top of the chiffonier, please." FINIS