And then I remembered the brilliant stagecraft of August the Physical Strong--he of the three hundred and fifty-two--and how he always managed to focus everybody's eyes on himself. And I stood stockstill on the broad, red-carpeted terrace when I walked out of the waiting room and held up my baby in the face of the multitude. You could hear the "_Hochs_" and Hurrahs all over town, they said. Hats flew in the air, handkerchiefs waved, flags were thrust out of the windows of the houses. "What are you doing, Imperial Highness?" whispered _Fraeulein von_ Schoenberg, my lady-in-waiting. "Never mind, I will carry the baby to the carriage," I answered curtly. "But the King and Prince George will be angry,--everything will be reported to them." "I sincerely hope it will," I said. And before I entered that petty _souriciere_ of a royal coach, I danced the baby above my head time and again, giving everybody a chance to see him. And as I stood there in the midst of this tumult of applause, this waving sea of good-will, this thunder of jubilation, I felt proud and happy as I never did before. And when the thought struck me how mad George would feel about it all, I had to laugh outright. I was still grinning to myself when I heard Frederick Augustus's troubled voice: "Get in, what are you standing around here for?"--These manifestations of popularity spelt "all-highest" displeasure to him, poor noodle. He anticipated the scene at the palace, George fuming and charging "play to the gallery," the Queen in tears, the King threatening to banish us from Dresden. "Be it so," I said to myself, "we might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb." And I refused to enter the carriage until I had waved and smiled profound thanks to everybody in the square and in the windows and on the balconies of the surrounding houses. I saw the Master of Horse address the coachman and immediately divined his purpose. So I pulled at the rope and commanded the coachman to drive slowly. I said it in my most imperious manner, and the Master of Horse dared not give the counter order with which Prince George had charged him. Poor man, his failure to subordinate my will to his, or George's, cost him his job. And so we made our royal entry into Dresden amid popular rejoicings. I glued my face to the carriage window and smiled and smiled and showed the baby to everyone who asked for the boon. Baby took it all in a most dignified fashion. He neither squalled nor kicked, but seemed to enjoy the homage paid him. When we reached the palace there was another big crowd of well-wishers, who shouted themselves hoarse for Louise and the baby, and, malicious thing that I am, I noticed with pleasure that it all happened under George's windows. "This will give father-in-law jaundice," said baby's nurse in Italian. She is a girl from Tuscany and very devoted to me. "If he dies, I will be Queen the sooner," thought I,--but happily I didn't think aloud. CHAPTER XI