IMPERIAL RUSSIAN ETHICS TRANSFERRED TO DRESDEN
My husband's reported escapade—Did he give diamonds to a dancing girl?—His foolish excuses—"I am your pal"—A restaurant scene in St. Petersburg—The birthday suit.
Dresden, December 3, 1893.
After all, Frederick Augustus has more spirit than I gave him credit for. Isabelle just told me that he has a new love, and a very appetizing piece of femininity she is, Fräulein Dolores of the Municipal Theatre.
"She's as well made as you, Louise, and rather more graceful," she said, "only her expression is somewhat inert. She lacks animation. Of course, she hasn't your attractive bust."
That devilish Isabelle sowed her poisonous information rather than pronounced it. "She has been seen with a new diamond-studded bandeau," she added.
At that moment the Schoenberg came to say that baby wants me. Isabelle went along to the nursery, but I managed to take the Schoenberg aside.
"I must know, before dinner, who gave the Dolores woman the new jewelry she is displaying; likewise whether His Royal Highness is sweet on that hussy. No half-truths, if you please. I want to know the worst if there be any."
The Schoenberg has a cousin who is a Councillor in the office of the police president, and the police president keeps a detailed record of the love affairs of all the actresses and singers employed in Dresden,—a relic of the time when stage folks, in European capitals, classed as "the King's servants."
The Councillor came himself to report and, after listening to what he said, I raised the boycott on Frederick Augustus without further ado, inviting him to my bed and board once more.
"So you went slumming with Kyril," I said after we had retired for the night.
"Who told you?" stammered the big fellow, reddening to the roots of his hair.
"Never mind. I know all! About the Dolores woman, her brand new diamonds, the pirouettes she did on the table and the many lace petticoats she wore."
"My word, I didn't count them," vowed his Royal Highness.
"Neither would I advise you to do so," I warned sternly, though as a matter of fact I was near exploding with laughter. "Now make a clean breast of it."
"I swear I was only the elephant. The King himself would excuse me under the circumstances," whimpered my husband.
"You big booby," I interposed, "can't you see that I'm not angry? I blab about you to the King? What do you take me for? I am your pal, now and always, in affairs liable to prove inartistic to the King's, or Prince George's, stomach. To begin with, what has an elephant to do with supping with a dancing girl?"
Frederick Augustus explained that the name of the pachyderm applies to a third party, who attends a couple out for a lark until he proves a crowd. Our cousin, Grand-duke Kyril of Russia, visiting Dresden incognito, had prevailed on Frederick Augustus's good nature to serve him and the Dolores.
"The Dolores is prettier than I?" I inquired.
"Not at all. She has a black mole under her left bosom."
"You saw that?"
"How could I help it? Russian Grand-dukes never allow a girl to wear corsets at supper. Kyril says it interferes with digestion."
How considerate of His Russian Imperial Highness!
Well, they had a good time and I guess the Dolores earned her diamonds. A fair exchange is no robbery. "But in St. Petersburg," said Frederick Augustus, "they do these things better." And he gave an elaborate description of a famous restaurant there, where the princes of the imperial family hold high carnival occasionally.
"The upper tier of dining rooms is reserved at night for any Grand-duke who promises his visit," quoted my husband, "and the broad marble stairs leading to them must not be used by others. Well, one fine evening Grand-duke Vladimir and a crowd of nobles and officers supped at the 'Ermitaj' and when they were all good and drunk, one of Vladimir's guests, Prince Galitzin, bet the host the price of the supper and a champagne bath for all, that he could induce the famous danseuse Mshinskaya to descend the stairs stark naked and walk among the tables below without anyone offering her insult.
"The bet was accepted and the girl sent for. She was found in a near-by theatre and rushed to the 'Ermitaj'. Of course, seeing that His Imperial Highness wished it, she consented to pull off the trick and—her clothes, but she made a condition."
"She demanded tights," I suggested.
"Pshaw, she is a sport, says Kyril." This in a tone of disgust from Frederick Augustus. He continued: "She merely begged his Imperial Highness to have it announced that she, Mshinskaya, was acting under the Grand-duke's orders. Done. 'By His Imperial Highness's leave,' shouted the Maître d'Hôtel from the top of the stairs, as Mademoiselle descended in her birthday suit. And the Mshinskaya made the tour of the restaurant as unconcernedly and as little subject to protests, or remarks, as if she had been muffled up to her ears.
"That's what I call freedom—discipline," concluded Frederick Augustus. "Think of doing anything like that in a Dresden restaurant."
"I would gladly give a year's allowance to the poor if you could manage it here while Prince George was masticating a Hamburg steak at a table opposite the grand staircase," said I.