"'That is also my heart-felt desire, dear sister,' he said.
"And he went out.
"We were married one day in March, 1912, a dull, threatening day. The Emperor and Empress, true to their promise, were present at the religious ceremony and left for Berlin in the evening. About five o'clock, first at the Rathaus and then at the castle, the State authorities and magistrates took the oath of fealty to the new Grand Duke. At eight the superior officers and higher dignitaries of the Grand Duchy, some thirty guests, were present at a dinner, informal on account of our recent mourning, in the banqueting-hall on the ground floor.
"The second course had hardly begun when the sound of tapping, now loud, now soft, was heard coming from the first floor, immediately above our heads.
"At first no notice was taken. But the noise continued, tap, tap, tap, with exasperating regularity.
"The Grand Duke, frowning slightly, beckoned to the lackey standing behind him.
"'What's that noise?' he asked in a low tone. 'Go and stop it.'
"The man had not returned in a quarter of an hour, but the noise did not cease.
"'Here, Kessel,' cried the Grand Duke, half annoyed, half amused, 'try and find out what's going on above our heads. Excuse me, gentlemen,' he said, turning to our guests.
"Kessel went. Five minutes later he came back, very red. The noise had stopped.