Part 38 (2/2)

MR. R.: ”I am sorry I was not President then. Ha! ha! Pleased to have met you, sir!”

We were told that there would be speeches under the flag, but we poured out without anything of the kind occurring.

BERLIN, _1912_.

Dear L.,--It is not only the unexpected that arrives: the expected arrives also.

The news we have been expecting these last years arrived yesterday.

Diplomacy has decided to divorce us.

We are to leave Berlin.

Johan ought to have left the service four years ago. According to the _protocole_ in Denmark, a Minister must retire when he reaches the _d'age limite_--the Amba.s.sador retiring at the age of seventy.

The Prime Minister asked him to remain, and he did. But now it seems that the powers that be have decided.

It is very sad, but true.

Countess Brockdorf came to make me a visit of condolence. She said that her Majesty had begged her to express her regrets. In the course of the visit she asked me when my book[4] would come out, and when I told her that I thought in October she said, ”I know that the Emperor is counting on your giving him a copy.” I promised that I would not forget it.

[4] _In the Courts of Memory_, published in the autumn of 1912.

On the day fixed for Johan's audience to present his letters of recall we were invited to luncheon at Neues Palais with their Majesties. At Wildpark, the Emperor's private station, a few miles from Potsdam, we were met by his carriage and drove through the beautiful park to the palace. The carriage stopped at the princ.i.p.al entrance, where a broad red carpet was stretched from the carriage-drive to the door. Johan got out there. Then I was driven to the other side of the palace, where I found another red carpet. This was the entrance which leads to the Empress's suite of apartments.

Countess Keller (the lady of honor) was waiting for me and led me to the Empress.

Her Majesty was most gracious; no one could have been more so. We remained talking until a lackey announced that Johan's audience was finished and that the Emperor was waiting in the dining-room for us.

The Kaiserin kindly took me by the arm, and we went together into the adjoining _salon_, where we found the Emperor, the Princess Victoria Augusta, Johan, William von Kidderling (Minister of Foreign Affairs), who is always present at these official audiences, a chamberlain, an adjutant--not more than ten people in all.

The Kaiser, on seeing me, kissed my hand, and was, as usual, most kind and altogether delightful. I sat at his left, the young Princess being at his right. I tried to say how grieved we were at the idea of leaving Berlin, where we had spent ten happy years. He was gracious enough to say that both he and the Empress were very sorry to lose us.

He said many appreciative things about what I had written in _Harper's_, and asked many questions showing that he had really read them. He seemed interested to hear about the Emperor Napoleon and the life at Compiegne. He said that he met Empress Eugenie for the first time when in Norway, three years ago. He had made a visit to her on her yacht, and she had ”honored” him by taking tea with him on the _Hohenzollern_. He said, ”How beautiful she must have been when she was young!”

”I saw her,” I replied, ”last spring at her villa at Cape Martin. She is _still_ beautiful, though she is eighty years old.”

”Eighty years!” cried the Kaiser, ”and still a _charmeuse_! That is unique.”

All through luncheon I was thinking that this was the last time I should be talking to the interesting and wonderful _charmeur_ who was sitting next to me. The Kaiser has a way of fixing those discerning gray eyes of his on you when he talks, and you have the feeling that he is sifting and weighing you in his mind--and when he smiles his face lights up with humor and interest. You feel as if a life-buoy were keeping you afloat. He has that wonderful gift of making people appear at their best. I gave him my book after luncheon. It looks very fitting in its red morocco binding. He appeared greatly delighted with it and begged me to write my name on the first page, which, of course, I was happy to do.

The Empress exclaimed: ”'Do give me one, too! Once the Emperor has it, I shall never get it.”

The Kaiser's last words to us were, ”Promise not to forget Berlin!”

Forget Berlin--never!

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