"That you made me a cuckold isn't exactly killing me; this sort of thing happened to better men than I, and—I was almost prepared for it. But to hear it announced from the King's lips——"
Because His Majesty knows—Frederick Augustus raved and swore I had dishonored him.
"If I wasn't a royal prince, I would be kicked out of the army," he whined.
In short, adultery isn't so very reprehensible if the King doesn't know.
Late tonight profound disquietude at court. The King is ill.
Thank God, the audience I feared must be postponed.
Pillnitz, May 22, 1901.
It wasn't. His Majesty appointed Prince George his representative, and I received a command to call on him at ten sharp.
I wrote on the Court Marshal's brutal invitation: "I refuse to see His Royal Highness."