"There is some good steel in this, Your Imperial Highness," he said with sparkling eyes. I believe this poor fellow would have died for a single look from me.
Among royal servants, the most devoted are those connected with the Marstall. No wonder so many of my sisters born on the steps of the throne, fell in love with their Master of Horse or equerries; some with mere hostlers, like Queen Christina of Spain, the mother of my aunt Isabelle, of amorous memory. Her lover, Munoz, of the Body Guards, was a famous equestrian and two years younger than Christina. He managed horses so well, she thought it would be great fun to boss this giant. But it ended by the brute lording it over her, the "Catholic Majesty." By the way, I wonder what became of Christina's and Munoz's several children. While they lived together from 1833 to 1844 without the sanction of either law or church, they were "regularly married" in the end, the hostler, Munoz, metamorphosing into Duke Rianzares. Yet the Almanach de Gotha knows not their progeny when, as "love children," they should live long and happily.
Another "hostler-marriage" occurred in the family of the proud Kaiser, the contracting parties being Princess Albrecht of Prussia and a groom, whose name I forget. This Princess, Marianne of the Netherlands, brought the first "real" money into the Hohenzollern family, and her husband, Albrecht, was long regarded the Crœsus among German princes.
After the divorce, His Royal Highness forced the ex-wife to marry the hostler, and the bloom of forbidden love having worn off in the meantime, Marianne seldom passed a day without being soundly beaten by the plebeian. Maybe she liked it. Some women do.
Today her offspring with Master Fisticuffs are sturdy farmers in Silesia, but two of the three sons she had with the royal Prince, as well as the sons the royal Prince had with his second wife, Rosalie von Rauch, are degenerates. Rosalie's sons are known as Counts Hohenau and the wife of the elder, Fritz, is giving my astute and pious cousin, the Kaiserin, considerable heart-ache.
Curious, isn't it? The children of the "adulteress" are successful men and women, aids in the progress of the world; those of the blood royal, in double or single doses, a menace to public morality. This much for your royal inbred custom.
But back to Dresden. The order to drive slowly was soon rescinded, for I was burning to see a riot at close range. "Plein carrière," I commanded, and my fast Carrossiers went at a tremendous rate for two miles. The moment I saw, in the distance, knots of people standing round or moving in the direction of the palace, I cried: "Schritt," and we proceeded as leisurely as if following a funeral.
As we turned around a corner, a detachment of gendarmes, sent to watch for me, hove into sight. Their commanding officer signalled frantically to the coachman to stop, but George had his instructions and proceeded.
The officer spurred his horse and rode up to me, questioning me with his eyes.
"My orders," I explained.