I shall tell them that I want to go home, but will they have me in Salzburg? Papa, of course, but if mother hears of my acquaintance with Heine, "who doesn't love Jesus,"--her own words,--she will undoubtedly side with Prince George against her daughter. It was Heine who wrote of one of her ancestors, King Louis of Bavaria: "As soon as the monkeys and kangaroos are converted to Christianity, they'll make King Louis their guardian saint, in proof of their perfect sanity." And you don't suppose for a moment that mamma forgets a thing like that. As to Nietzsche, he will give her no conscientious qualms, for I'm sure she never heard of the gentleman, but my going to the Gipsy Baron "where two princely mistresses are gyrating"--horrible! I hear her say: "I think Prince George is most considerate sending our daughter to Loschwitz. She deserved to be put in a nunnery and made to kneel on unboiled peas three times a day." And when it comes to an _eclat_, even papa may have to abandon me. Emperor Francis Joseph holds the purse-strings; and papa always lives beyond his means and Francis Joseph, King Albert and Prince George are fast friends. If papa quarrelled with the two latter gentlemen, they would immediately denounce him to the Emperor. The rest can easily be guessed. Sorry, but papa is no hero in his daughter's eyes. CHAPTER XXII "POOR RELATIONS" IN ROYAL HOUSES Myself and Frederick Augustus quarrel and pound table--The Countess Cosel's golden vessel--Off to Brighton--Threat of a beating--I provoke shadows of divorce--King threatens force--More defiance on my part--I humble the King and am allowed to invite my brother Leopold. VILLA LOSCHWITZ, _September 1, 1894_. Father had to give in. He is the poor relation, and a poor relation in royal circles doesn't amount to more than one among well-to-do merchants and farmers. He has no rights that others need respect and if he shows backbone he is given to understand that the head of the family has other uses for the palace or hunting grounds lent him. "I would love to have you with me in Salzburg," he wrote, "but, dear child, it's for your best to learn to obey. Do it for your old father's sake." Still I wouldn't give in at once. "I won't go to Loschwitz," I declared. And gave a dozen reasons besides the paramount one that I wouldn't go, because Prince George wanted me. "I'm no trunk to be shipped hither and thither at someone's behest," I said. Frederick Augustus took umbrage at the "someone," which he pronounced _lese majeste_, and to emphasise the fact hit the table with a bang, whereupon I pounded the table twice: bang-bang! It hurt my hand, and didn't do Frederick Augustus any good. Nor was the discussion advanced thereby. For the rest: an exchange of names and epithets that smacked of the kitchen rather than the _salon_. "Too bad you exhaust all your energy with me," I said among other things, "while in the royal presence you act the docile lamb's tail."