A few moments later, however, a smart officer of the Prussian Guard, whom I recognized as Count von Castell Rudenhausen, a well-known figure in the gay life of Berlin, came forward, and, bowing, invited the Princess to waltz. And a moment later Luisa was smiling at me across the shoulder of her good-looking cavalier. Suddenly, while waltzing, her magnificent rope of historic matched pearls accidentally caught in the button of a passing officer, the string snapped, and many of the pearls fell rattling upon the polished floor. In a moment a dozen officers in tight uniforms were groping about to recover them from the feet of the dancers when, during the commotion, I heard the voice of Judicial Councillor Löhlein remark quite loudly: "Ah! now we can all see who are the Crown-Princess' admirers!" Luisa flushed instantly in anger and annoyance, but said nothing, whilst her lady-in-waiting in silence took the broken rope of pearls, together with those recovered from the floor, and a few moments later the significant incident ended. The Saxon Crown-Prince and his wife were at that time a most devoted couple, though all of us knew that the modern ideas Luisa had brought to Dresden from the Hapsburg Court had much shocked old King George and his consort. The Saxon Court was unused to a pretty woman with buoyant spirits rejoicing in life with a capital "L." According to the Court whisperings, trouble had started a few days after marriage, when the King, having given his daughter-in-law a tiara of diamonds, a Royal heirloom, with strict injunctions to wear them just as they were--a style of the seventeenth century--he one evening at the opera saw her wearing the stones re-set in that style known as _art nouveau_. The King became furious, and ordered them to be set again in their original settings, whereupon Luisa coolly returned the present. Such was the commencement of the old King's ill-feeling towards her. The State ball that night was certainly a brilliant one for such a small Court, and next day we all returned to Potsdam, for the Emperor had suddenly cancelled a number of engagements and arranged to pay a visit to Wilhelmshaven, where the Kaiserliche Werft (Imperial Dockyard) contained certain naval secrets he wished to see. Before we left Dresden, however, I met the Crown-Princess in one of the corridors. It was nine o'clock in the morning. She wore her riding-habit, for, being a splendid horsewoman, she had just come in from her morning canter. "Well, Count!" she laughed. "So you are leaving us unexpectedly! I shall be coming to pay another visit to Potsdam soon. The Emperor invited me last night. Au revoir!" And after I had bent over her small white hand she waved it merrily and passed the sentry towards her private apartments, wherein she had heard the ghostly coach and four. Her Imperial Highness paid her promised visit to the Empress at the Neues Palais in July.