"Tell His Royal Highness he must excuse me. I can't see him before he goes away. Say I have a headache, or the gout, I don't care which," I commanded Lucretia next morning.
The previous night I had denied myself to Frederick Augustus, though he entreated and raved.
While I appreciate the arch-Lais's bon mot that "one can't judge of a family by a single specimen," which made Ninon talk of her lovers not as Coligny, Villarceau, Sévigné, Condé, d'Albret, etc., but as les Rochefoucaults, les d'Effiats, les Condés, les Sévignés, etc., I was determined not to betray Henry by the whole House of Saxony in a single twelve-hours.
I wonder whether this Bernhardt loves me? Perhaps, on his part, it was the longing for the girl he adores, as, on mine, it was longing for Henry that drew us together with electric force. And, of course, environment had something to do with it: moon, opportunity, Frederick Augustus's indolent gaucherie. Yes, why deny it, the good dinner we had, the champagne.
CHAPTER XLVIII
GRAND MISTRESS TELLS HUSBAND I KEEP A DIARY
He wants to see it, but seems unsuspecting—Grand Mistress denies that she meant mischief, but I upbraid her unmercifully—Threaten to dismiss her like a thieving lackey.
Loschwitz, May 1, 1901.