I put this question to women. Between love as we conceive it and love as we experience it, is there not very often an abyss?
I have been culpable, criminal and infamous to fall into this abyss. Such is the real truth.
Why did my mother—who was so good—and why did the King—who was so experienced in human nature—wish for this marriage, in spite of the disproportion of our ages, and the few claims to universal admiration which my intended husband possessed, apart from his claims to worldly position?
In the first place his mother, who, rightly, loved and respected him, pleaded for him. She credited him with possessing some of her own good qualities.
In the second place, Prince Frederick of Hohenzollern had expressed a wish to ask me in marriage. The King and Queen, who were told of this, did not want, for various reasons, to become closer allied to the house of Berlin. Other suitors, more or less desirable, might also appear on the scene. Therefore, to put an end to this particular scheme and any future uncertainties, I was plighted to Philip of Coburg.
In addition to this the Queen congratulated herself on sending her eldest daughter to the Viennese Court where she herself had shone. She still possessed influence there, and she thought that I would benefit from it. She was still more satisfied to think that owing to the entailed estates of the Coburgs in Hungary, I should possess material advantages in the country dear to her memory, and where she could often rejoin me, perhaps where she might even retire herself, since she foresaw a future which was gradually to become more and more difficult.
My fiancé again appeared on my horizon. A year passes quickly. The date of my marriage was approaching. I knew all the flowers of rhetoric and the hot-house flowers of a daily courtship. But I asked myself, why did the Queen never leave the archangel and me alone?
My fiancé told me about his travels. He had, he said, brought back some wonderful collections of souvenirs. But I only knew how wonderful these were later. He also told me about his plans for the future, the numerous properties of the Coburgs, etc. I gave myself up to delightful hopes, and described the magnificence of my trousseau, which was enriched with fairy-like gifts of Belgian lace and intricate embroideries.
Finally I tried on the symbolical white robe, under a heavenly veil, a chef d'œuvre of Brussels lace, and I was acknowledged fit to manage my long train and to make my curtsies equally as well as the most graceful of the famous young ladies of Saint Cyr.
Loaded with jewels, I soared higher and higher, flattered by homage, congratulations and good wishes, without perceiving that, although my fiancé was so much older than myself, I had now become a certain personality in his dreams and in his thoughts.