"She boxed the Crown Prince's ears."
"Oh!" Carl's eyes grew round in horror.
"Ja," said Marianne, "she did, and the Crown Prince ran to the Queen and buried his face in her dress, but nothing anyone could say would make little Mademoiselle de Staël apologise. But she was never asked again to even one of the masquerades, balls or plays. At Christmas they had always a tree and our dear Queen decorated and dressed it herself, and there were dances and jugglers, and once at Paretz they had a lottery for all the children. I was there with our father and when a child did not draw a prize, our Queen, with one of her lovely smiles, gave a present herself."
Then she returned to the journal.
"At Paretz, our Queen's country home, all ceremony is laid aside. The King will be called 'Schulze' (magistrate) and they join in all the sports and dances of the people who live there.
"But our Queen loves to be grand, also, and there was once in Berlin a fine masquerade in her honour, a play where girls represented cocoons, and at her approach untwisted themselves from their wrappings and danced out butterflies. And once there was a fine play representing the marriage of Queen Mary of England and Philip of Spain. Our Queen was Mary and many people think it a bad omen, for this Queen was so unhappy and lost Calais to the English. The Duke of Sussex was Philip. But there are people who do not love our Queen. Colonel York is one. He came yesterday to pay his respects to mother and he said horrid things, that our Queen's hands are too big and her feet not well made. Ludwig says this is because she has influence over the King and because she will have a well-behaved Court. Colonel York says she does not treat the military with proper respect.
"It is again May, and our Queen has gone on another journey. To-day we visited Peacock Island, where she lives so happily in the château built like a ruined Roman villa. I saw the very rooms of our Queen, and the menagerie, and heard from Ludwig and the Baron, who was with us, how happy our King is when he can throw off affairs of state and come 'home' to Peacock Island."
"Yes," interrupted Marianne, "we used to hear a great deal about Peacock Island when we lived in Berlin before this awful war. Once Bishop Eylert was sitting beneath the trees with our King and Queen and her Majesty inquired of a servant where the children were.
"'Playing in a meadow, Majesty,' said the attendant.