The Princess came back to Hanover, and a few days later Königsmarck set out for the war, so their meetings were few and brief. She was expected to proceed to Herrenhausen, where the electoral court then was; but she lingered in Hanover, excusing herself on the ground that Prince Max’s apartments at Herrenhausen adjoined those set apart for her. The excuse was flimsy, for Prince Max had recently been staying with her parents at Celle while she was there; and though his gallantry had once threatened to exceed the friendship allowed to a brother-in-law, that was long ago, and he now treated her with only ordinary courtesy. But she had raised a similar objection successfully at Luisburg, and it served to delay her visit to Herrenhausen until Königsmarck left Hanover. His orders to march came suddenly, on his return from a visit to the Princess, and he had to start the same night without wishing her good-bye. He left her apartments piqued because she seemed to be in a hurry for him to go: in truth, she was conscious of being watched by spies, and snatched every moment of her lover’s company with a fearful joy. The first of the following letters of the Princess was written before she knew Königsmarck had left Hanover for the campaign; the next two or three describe an interview she had with Countess Platen, of which the most notable point is that the Countess tried to persuade Sophie Dorothea that it was not she, but the Electress Sophia, who had made mischief with the Elector about her intimacy with Königsmarck. The Princess’s letters end with reproaches to her lover for having left her so unkindly, and having sent her no word since he went away. “[HANOVER,] _Monday_, _July_ 30/_August_ 9. “It is four o’clock, and I can no longer hope to see you to-day. _Que je suis malheureuse! Vous n’êtes pas content de moi._ I fancy your good-bye was not so tender as it ought to have been. I am overwhelmed with many troubles. You are going away, and I shall not see you for ever so long. I am so distressed that I wish myself dead this very moment. I have not slept, I have a dreadful beating of my heart, and I am so grieved at not seeing you to-day that I am almost beside myself. Life is unbearable without you: how cruel of you to doubt it! I cannot forgive your cruel injustice last evening. Is it possible you think me capable of feeling joyous and gay on the eve of your departure—I, who would like to be dead all the days I spend without you, and only live when I see you again?