A foretaste: titled servants put me en route for lover—The bargain I will propose to Frederick Augustus—Frederick Augustus will be a complaisant King—To revive Petit Trianon—I am addressed as Queen.
Dresden, November 3, 1902.
Though still styled Crown Princess, I am already revelling in the delights and perquisites of queenship: I do as I please, go where I please, I would think aloud, as I please, if anyone dared me.
For all my enemies of a week ago turned flatterers and flunkeys, bowing, grovelling, fawning, contemptible in their self-abasement, but quite useful to my purposes.
Like most royal palaces, ours at Dresden has a secret staircase and exit for emergencies. It is never used by ladies; only the princes have recourse to it, occasionally, to drop out of sight in mufti, for, of course, royal incognito is more or less legitimate.
"In the evening, after our card party was over, Catherine was seen to dismiss her court and retire to her private apartments with the new favorite," say the Secret Memoirs of the Court of St. Petersburg.
Less publicly, perhaps, but even more illegitimately, I walk the secret staircase en route for my lover whenever I please nowadays.
I go veiled and—make the Grand Mistress open the door for me. She knows that I am on sweet pleasure bent and—smiles.
"When will Your Imperial Highness deign to return?"