“Not for me. I have got Lilly into my head. She has something in the corners of her mouth, in her gait, her way of speaking, that no other woman can equal, for me. You, for example, Martha, are ten times as pretty, and a hundred times as clever.”
“Thank you.”
“But I would not have you for a wife.”
“Thank you.”
“Just because you are too clever. You would be sure to look down on me from a higher level. The star on my collar, my sabre and my spurs do not impose on you. Lilly, however, looks with respect on a man of action. I know she adores soldiers, while you——”
“Still, I have twice married a soldier,” replied I laughing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
During meals, at the upper end of the table where my father and his old friends gave the tone, and where Frederick and I also sat (the young folks at the other end had their own talk to themselves), politics was the chief subject; that was the favourite material for conversation with the old gentlemen. The negotiations for peace which were in progress gave sufficient ground for this display of wisdom, for it is a firm conviction of most people that political events form the most sterling matter for conversation and that most suited for serious men. From gallantry and out of friendly regard for my female weakness of intellect, one of the generals said by the way: “These things can hardly interest our young friend Baroness Martha; we should only speak about them when we are alone. Eh! fair lady?”
I defended myself from this and begged them seriously to continue the subject. I took a real and an anxious interest in the proceedings of the military and diplomatic world. Not from the same point of view as these gentlemen, but it was of great moment to me to follow to its ultimate conclusion “the Danish question,” whose origin and course I had studied so carefully during the war. Now, after these battles and victories the fate of the disputed duchies must surely be settled, and yet the questions and the doubts were always going on. The Augustenburg—that famous Augustenburg on account of whose immemorial rights all the contest had been lighted up—was he then installed now? Nothing of the kind. Nay, a new pretender arrived on the scene. Glücksburg and Gottorp, and all the lines and branch lines, whatever their names were, which I had been painfully committing to memory, were not enough. Now Russia stepped in and opposed to the Augustenburg an Oldenburg! However, the result of the war up to this point was that the duchies were to belong neither to a Glücks-nor to an Augusten-nor to an Olden-nor to any other-burg, but to the allied victors. The following I found out were the articles of the conditions of peace then in progress:—
1. “Denmark surrenders the duchies to Austria and Prussia.”