e Prince of Lilienhoehe from the country, he
had not been able altogether to rid himself of the trouble the latter
had occasioned. The Ogre had been growing larger and uglier for years,
and, on looking back upon it now, I am of the opinion that it was his
last, and I cannot help thinking his greatest, imprudence, that brought
about the disastrous end. Be that as it may, however, the result was
quickly apparent. The contempt the populace felt for us was to be
observed in every direction. My father, who seldom left the palace, was
not brought into actual contact with it, but I remember on one occasion
my mother and I being hooted while driving in the Graben. What we had
done to deserve it I cannot say, but the incident was sufficient to show
me a side of my mother's character that I had never encountered before.
In her home life she had, as I have observed already, developed into a
quiet and loving woman. Now, in the face of danger, her old spirit
reasserted itself, and I can recall the flash that lighted her eyes, and
the contemptuous curl of her lips, as she faced the crowd that surged
about the carriage. Turning to me she took my hand and bade me not be
frightened; then, looking at the Baroness Niedervald, who was sitting
opposite, and who appeared as if she were about to collapse, added
sternly, "I am sure you are not afraid, Madame, so I beg you will not
permit them to think so."

The Baroness, who stood in greater awe of my mother than a thousand
street ruffians, pulled herself together, and immediately repaid their
jeers with looks of scorn.

Ten minutes later we were back at the Palace once more, and my father
had been made acquainted with what had occurred. A curious smile
flickered over his sphinx-like face as he heard the news.

"You fed your hounds too well at first, my dear," he said, with that
cynicism that always characterised him. "They are grumbling now because
the supply of bones is finished, and they are compelled to fall back on
stones."

I did not realise the force of this allusion then, but it has become
more plain to me since. One thing is quite certain--it angered my mother
beyond measure, and from that time she carried no more complaints to
him. Even had she done so, it is doubtful whether it would have been of
any use. "Go to von Marquart, your Majesty," he would have said. "He is
the real king; I am only the figurehead--the puppet, if you like."

As a matter of fact the time had gone by for