I have recalled the Emperor's first sight of an aeroplane in flight, in company with Herr Anton Reitschel and Professor Vambéry, because of an incident which occurred that same day. Just before midnight the Emperor, seated in his room in the Berlin Schloss, was giving me certain instructions to be sent to Carlton House Terrace, when the door opened without any knock of permission, and upon the threshold there stood that arch-intriguer, Frau Kleist, in her stiff black silk gown, and wearing a gleaming diamond brooch, the glitter of which was cold as her own steely eyes. "Have I Your Majesty's permission to enter?" she asked, in her high-pitched voice. "Of course, of course," replied the Emperor, turning in his chair. "Come in and close the door. It has turned quite cold to-night. Well?" he asked, looking at her inquiringly. The Emperor is a man of very few words, except when he tells a story. The Court dancing-mistress hesitated for a second. Their eyes met, and in that glance I saw complete understanding. "May I speak in confidence with Your Majesty?" she asked, advancing into the room, her stiff, wide skirts rustling. Except the Court ladies she was the only female at Court whom the sentries stationed at the end of the corridor allowed to pass to His Majesty's private cabinet. But Frau Kleist had access everywhere. Her eyes were the eyes of the Emperor. Many a diplomat, financier, military or naval commander has been raised to position of favourite because he first secured--by payment, of course, according to his means--the good graces of the _ex-ballerina_. And, alas! many a good, honest man has been cast out of the Potsdam circle into oblivion, and even to death, because of the poisonous declaration of that smiling, bejewelled old hag. "Of what do you wish to speak?" inquired the Emperor, who, truth to tell, was very busy upon a most important matter concerning the building of new submarines, and was perhaps a little annoyed by the intrusion, though he did not betray it, so clever was he. "Of the Reitschel affair," was the old woman's low reply. At her words the Kaiser frowned slightly, and dismissed me. I bowed myself out, and closed the door upon the Emperor and his clever female spy. That she should have at that late hour come from Potsdam--for, looking down into the courtyard, I saw the lights of her big Mercédès--showed that some underhand work was in progress. Only a week before I had been discussing Anton Reitschel and his position with my intimate friend, old Von Donaustauf, Master of Ceremonies, who was supposed to control the ex-dancer, but who in reality was in a subordinate position to her, because she had the ear of the Emperor at any hour. Petty jealousies, dastardly plots, and constant intrigues make up the daily life around the Throne. Half the orders given in the Emperor's name are issued without his knowledge, and many an order transmitted to the provinces without his authority.