While a Mecklenburg princess had attained to the regency of Russia, and
while her son was hailed as emperor, the Princess Elizabeth lived alone
and unnoticed in her small and modestly-furnished throne, and yet in St.
Petersburg was living the only rightful heir to the empire, the daughter
of Czar Peter the Great! And as she was young, beautiful, and amiable,
how came she to be set aside to make room for a stranger upon the throne
of her father, which belonged to her alone?
Princess Elizabeth had voluntarily kept aloof from all political
intrigues and all revolutions. In the interior of her palace she passed
happy days; her world, her life, and her pleasures were there. Princess
Elizabeth desired not to reign; her only wish was to love and be loved.
The intoxicating splendor of worldly greatness was not so inviting to
her as the more intoxicating pleasure of blessed and happy love. She
would, above all things, be a woman, and enjoy the full possession of
her youth and happiness.
What cared she that her own rightful throne was occupied by a
stranger--what cared she for the blinding shimmer of a crown? Ah, it
troubled her not that she was poor, and possessed not even the means of
bestowing presents upon her favorites and friends. But she felt happy
in her poverty, for she was free to love whom she would, to raise to
herself whomsoever she might please.
It was a festival day that they were celebrating in the humble palace of
the emperor’s daughter Elizabeth--certainly a festival day, for it was
the name-day of the princess.
The rooms were adorned with festoons and garlands, and all her
dependants and friends were gathered around her. Elizabeth saw not the
limited number of this band; she enjoyed herself with those who were
there, and lamented not the much greater number of those who had
forgotten her.
She was among her friends, in her little reception-room. Evening had
come, the household and the less trusted and favored of her adherents
had withdrawn, and only the most intimate, most favored friends now
remained with the princess.
They had conversed so long that they now recurred to the enjoyment of
that always-ready, always-pleasing art, music. A young man sang to the
accompaniment of a guitar.
Elizabeth listened, listlessly reclining upon her divan. Behind her
stood two gentlemen, who, like her, were delightedly listening to the
singing of the youth.
Elizabeth was a blooming, beautiful woman. She was to-day charming
to the eye in the crimson-velvet robe, embroidered with silver, that
enveloped her full, voluptuous form, leaving her neck and _gorge_ free,
and displaying the delicate whiteness of her skin in beautiful contrast
with the purple of her robe. Perhaps a severe judge might not have
pronounced her face handsome according to the rules of the antique, but
it was one of those faces that please and bewitch the other sex; one of
those beauties whose charm consists not so much in the regularity of
the lines as in the ever-varying expression. There was so much that was
winning, enticing, supercilious, much-promising, and warm-glowing, in
the face of this woman! The full, swelling, deep-red lips, how charming
were they when she smiled; those dark, sparkling eyes, how seducing
were they when shaded by a soft veil of emotional enthusiasm; those
faintly-blushing cheeks, that heaving bosom, that voluptuous form, yet
resplendent with youthful gayety--for Elizabeth had not yet reached her
thirtieth year--whom would she not have animated, excited, transported?
Elizabeth knew she was beautiful and attractive, and this was her
pride and her joy. She could easily pardon the German princess, Anna
Leopoldowna, for occupying the throne that was rightfully her own, but
she would never have forgiven the regent had she been handsomer than
herself. Anna Leopoldowna was the most powerful woman in Russia, but
she, Elizabeth, was the handsomest woman in Russia, which was all she
coveted, and she had nothing more to desire.
But at this moment she thought neither of Anna Leopoldowna nor of her
own beauty, but only of the singer who was warbling to her those Russian
popular songs so full of love and sadness that they bring tears into the
eyes and fill the heart with yearning.
Elizabeth had forgotten all around her--she heard only him, saw only
him; her whole soul lay in the glances with which she observed him, and
around her mouth played one of those bewitching smiles peculiar to her
in moments of joy and satisfaction, and which her courtiers knew and
observed.
He was very handsome, this young singer, and as Elizabeth saw him in
this moment, she congratulated herself that her connoisseur-glance had
quickly remarked him, when, some weeks previously, she had first seen
him as the precentor of the imperial chapel.
Surprised and excited by the beauty of his form and the sweetness of
his voice, Elizabeth had begged him of the lord-marshal for her private
service, and since then Alexis Razumovsky had entered her house as her
private secretary and the manager of her small estate.
While Alexis was singing with his sweetly-melting tones, Elizabeth
turned her swimming eyes to the two men who were standing in respectful
silence behind her.
“You must acknowledge,” said she in a low tone, and as if oppressed by
internal commotion, “that you never saw nor heard say any thing finer
than my Alexis.”
“Oh, yes,” said one of these men, with a low bow, “we have seen _you_!”
“And did we not yesterday hear you sing this same charming slumber-song,
princess?” asked the other.
Elizabeth smiled. “It is already well known that Woronzow and Grunstein
must always flatter!” said she.
“No, we do not flatter,” responded Woronzow, the chamberlain of the
princess, “we only love truth! You ask if we have ever seen any thing
more beautiful than your private secretary, and we answer that we have
seen _you_!”
“Well, now, you have all so often assured me that I am the handsomest
woman in Russia, that at length I am compelled to believe you. But
Alexis is fortunately a man, and therefore not my rival; you may, then,
fearlessly confess that Alexis is the handsomest of all men! But how
is this?” exclaimed the princess, interrupting herself, as the handsome
young singer suddenly sprang up and threw his guitar aside with an
indignant movement; “do you sing no more, Alexis?”
“No,” frowardly responded the young man, “I sing no more, when my
princess no longer listens!”
“There, see the ungrateful man,” said the princess, with a charming
smile--“he was occupying all my thoughts, and yet he dares complain! You
are a malefactor deserving punishment. Come here to me, Alexis; kneel,
kiss my hand, and beg for pardon, you calumniator!”
“That is a punishment for which angels might be grateful!” responded
Alexis Razumovsky, kneeling to the princess and pressing her hand to his
burning lips. “Ah, that I might oftener incur such punishment!”
“Do you then prefer punishment to reward?” asked Elizabeth, tenderly
bending down to him and looking deep into his eyes.
“She loves him!” whispered Grunstein to the chamberlain Woronzow. “She
certainly loves him!”
Elizabeth’s fine ear caught these words, and, slowly turning her head,
she slightly nodded. “Yes,” said she, “Grunstein is right--she loves
him! Congratulate me, therefore, my friends, that the desert void in my
heart is at length filled--congratulate me for loving him. Ah, nothing
is sweeter, holier, or more precious than love; and I can tell you that
we women are happy only when we are under the influence of that divine
passion. Congratulate me, then, my friends, for, thank God, I am in
love! Now, Alexis, what have you to say?”
“There are no words to express such a happiness,” cried Alexis, pressing
the feet of the princess to his bosom.
“Happiness, then, strikes you dumb,” laughed the princess, “and will not
allow you to say that you love me? Such are all you men. You envelope
yourselves with a convenient silence, and would make us poor women
believe the superabundance of feeling deprives you of utterance.”
At this moment the door was softly opened, and a lackey, who made his
appearance at the threshold, beckoned to Woronzow.
“What is it, Woronzow?” asked the princess, while, wholly unembarrassed
by the presence of the lackey, she played with the profuse dark locks of
the kneeling Razumovsky.
“An invitation from the Regent Anna to a court-ball, which is to take
place fourteen days hence,” said Woronzow.
“Ah, our good cousin is, then, so gracious as to remember us,” cried
the princess, with a somewhat clouded brow. “It will certainly be a very
magnificent festival, as we are invited so many days in advance. How sad
that I cannot have the pleasure of being present!”
“And why not, if one may be allowed to ask, princess?” asked Woronzow.
“Why?” sighed Elizabeth. “Ask my waiting-woman; she will tell you that
the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of the great Czar Peter, has not
one single robe splendid enough to render her presentable, without
mortification, at a court-ball of the regent.”
“Whatever robe you may wear,” passionately interposed Alexis, “you will
still be resplendent, for your beauty will impart a divine halo to any
dress!”
That was precisely the kind of flattery pleasing to Elizabeth.
“Think you so, flatterer?” asked Elizabeth. “Well, for once I will
believe your words, and assume that the Princess Elizabeth may be
fair without the aid of splendor in dress. We therefore accept the
invitation, Woronzow. Announce that to the regent’s messenger. But still
it is sad and humiliating,” continued Elizabeth after a pause, a cloud
passing over her usually so cheerful countenance, “yes it is still a
melancholy circumstance for the daughter of the great Peter to be so
poor that she is not able to dress herself suitably to her rank. Ah,
how humiliating is the elevation of my high position, when I cannot even
properly reward you, my friends, for your fidelity and attachment!”
“You will one day be able to reward us,” significantly remarked
Grunstein. “One day, when an imperial crown surmounts your fair brows,
then will your generous heart be able to act according to its noble
instincts.”
“Still the same old dreams!” said Elizabeth, shaking her head and
letting Razumovsky’s long locks glide through her fingers. “Pay no
attention to him, Alexis, he is an enthusiast who dreams of imperial
crowns, while I desire nothing but a ball-dress, that in it I may please
you, my friend!”
“Oh, you always please me,” whispered Alexis, “and most pleasing are you
when--”
The conclusion of his flattering speech he whispered so low that it was
heard by no one but the princess.
Patting his cheek with her little round hand, she blushed, but not for
shame, as she did not cast down her eyes, but answered with a glowing
glance the tender looks of her lover. She blushed only from an internal
passionate excitement, while her bosom stormily rose and fell.
“You are very saucy, Alexis,” said she, but at the same time lightly
kissing him upon the forehead, and smiling; but then her brow was
suddenly clouded, for the door was again opened and once more the lackey
appeared upon the threshold.
“The French ambassador,” said he, “the Marquis de la Chetardie, begs the
favor of an audience.”
“Ah, the good marquis!” cried the princess, rising from her reclining
position. “Conduct him in, he is very welcome.”
The lackey opened both wings of the folding-door, and the marquis
entered, followed by several servants with boxes and packets.
“Ah, you come very much like a milliner,” laughingly exclaimed
Elizabeth, graciously advancing to receive the ambassador.
Dropping upon one knee, the marquis kissed her offered hand.
“I come, illustrious Princess Elizabeth, to beg a favor of you!” he
said.
“You wish to mortify me,” responded Elizabeth. “How can the ambassador
of a great and powerful nation have a favor to ask of the poor,
repudiated, and forgotten Princess Elizabeth?”
“In the name of the king my master come I to demand this favor!”
solemnly answered the marquis.
“Well, if you really speak in earnest,” said the princess, “then I
have only to respond that it will make me very happy to comply with any
request which your august king or yourself may have to make of me.”
“Then I may be allowed, on this occasion of the celebration of your
name-day, to lay at your feet these trifling presents of my royal
master,” said the ambassador of France, rising to take the boxes and
packages from the lackeys and place them before Elizabeth.
“They are only trifles,” continued he, while assiduously occupied in
opening the boxes, “trifles of little value--only interesting, perhaps,
because they are novelties that have as yet been worn in Paris by no
lady except the queen and madame!
“This mantelet of Valenciennes lace,” continued the busy marquis,
unfolding before the princess a magically fine lace texture, “this
mantelet is sent by the Queen of France to the illustrious Princess
Elizabeth. Only two such mantelets have been made, and her majesty
has strictly commanded that no more of a similar pattern shall be
commenced.”
Princess Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with delight. Like a curious child
she fluttered from one box to the other, and in fact they were very
costly, tasteful, and charming things which their majesties of France
had sent to the Princess Elizabeth, who prized nothing higher than
splendor in dress and ornaments.
There were the most beautiful gold-embroidered velvet robes, light crape
and lace dresses, and hats and topknots of charming elegance.
Elizabeth examined and admired all; she clapped her hands with delight
when any one of these precious presents especially pleased her, calling
Alexis, Grunstein, and Woronzow to share her joy and admiration.
“Now it will be a triumph for me to appear at this ball!” said
Elizabeth, exultingly; “ah, how beautiful it is of your king that he has
sent me these magnificent presents to-day, and not eight days later! I
shall excite the envy of the regent and all the court ladies with these
charming things, which no one besides myself will possess.”
And the princess was constantly renewing her examination of the
presents, and breaking out into ecstasies over their beauty.
The Marquis de la Chetardie smilingly listened to her, told her much
about Paris and its splendors, declaring that even in Paris there was no
lady who could be compared to the fair Princess Elizabeth.
“Ah,” remarked Elizabeth, smilingly threatening him with her finger,
“you would speak differently if the queen or some other lady of your
court were standing by my side!”
“No,” seriously replied the marquis, “I would fall at the feet of my
queen and say: ‘You are my queen, judge me, condemn me, my life is in
your hand. You are the Queen of France, and as such I bend before you;
but Princess Elizabeth is the queen of beauty, and as such I adore
her!’”
Princess Elizabeth smiled, and with harmless unconstraint chatted yet a
long time with the shrewd and versatile ambassador of the French king.
“I have yet one more request to make,” said the marquis, when about to
take leave. “But it is a request that no one but yourself must hear,
princess!”
Elizabeth signed to her friends to withdraw into the open anteroom.
“Well, marquis,” she then said with some curiosity, “let me now hear
what else you have to ask.”
“My king and master has learned with regret that the noble Princess
Elizabeth is not surrounded with that wealth and splendor which is her
due as the daughter of the great emperor and the rightful heir to the
Russian throne. My king begs the favor of being allowed to make good the
delinquency toward you of the present Russian regency, and that he may
have the pleasure of providing you with the means necessary to enable
you to establish a court suitable to your birth and position. I am
provided with sufficient funds for these purposes. You have only to send
me by your physician in ordinary, Lestocq, a quittance signed by you,
and any sum you may require will be immediately paid!”
“Oh,” said the princess, with emotion, “I shall never be able
sufficiently to testify my gratitude to the generous King of France.
I am a poor, insignificant woman, who can thankfully accept but never
requite his kindness.”
“Who knows?” said the marquis significantly. “You may one day become the
most powerful woman in Europe, for your birth and your destiny call you
to the throne.”
“Oh, I know you are Lestocq’s friend, and share his dreams,” said the
princess. “But let us not now speak of impossibilities, nor idly jest,
while I am deeply touched by the generous friendship of your sovereign.
That I accept his offer, may prove to him and you how much I love and
respect him; for we willingly incur obligations only to those who are so
highly estimated that we gratefully subordinate ourselves to them. Write
this to your king.”
“And may I also write to him,” asked the marquis, “that this
conversation will remain a secret, of which, above all things, the
regent, Anna Leopoldowna, is to know nothing?”
“My imperial word of honor,” said the princess, “that no one except
ourselves and Lestocq, whom you yourself propose as a medium, shall know
anything of this great generosity of your sovereign. God grant that
a time may one day come when I may loudly and publicly acknowledge my
great obligations to him!”
“That time will have come when you are Empress of Russia!” said the
ambassador, taking his leave.
“Already one more who has taken it into his head to make an empress of
me,” said the princess, as her three favorites again entered. “Foolish
people that you are! It does not satisfy you to be the friend of a
Princess Elizabeth, but I must become an empress for your sakes.”
“How well the diadem would become that proud pure brow!” exclaimed
Alexis, with animation.
“How happy would this poor Russia be under your mild sceptre!” said the
chamberlain, Woronzow.
“Yes, you owe it to all of us, to yourself and your people, to mount the
throne of your fathers,” said Grunstein.
“But if I say to you that I will not?” cried the princess, reclining
again upon her divan. “The duties of an empress are very difficult and
wearing. I love quiet and enjoyment; and, moreover, this throne of my
father, of which you speak so pathetically, is already occupied,
and awaits me not. See you not your sublime Emperor Ivan, whom the
regent-mother is rocking in his cradle? That is your emperor, before
whom you can bow, and leave me unmolested with your imperial crown.
Come, Alexis, sit down by me upon this tabouret. We will take another
look at these magnificent presents. Ah! truly they are dearer to me than
the possession of empire.”
“The Princess Elizabeth can thus speak only in jest,” said an earnest
voice behind them.
“Ah, Lestocq!” said the princess, with a friendly nod. “You come very
late, my friend.”
“And yet too soon to bring you bad news!” said Lestocq, with a profound
and respectful bow to the princess.
“Bad news?” repeated Elizabeth, turning pale. “_Mon Dieu_, am I, then,
one too many for them here? Would they kill me, or send me in exile to
Siberia?”
“Yet worse!” laconically responded Lestocq. “But, first of all, let us
be cautious, and take care that we have no listeners.” And, crossing
the room, Lestocq closed all the doors, and carefully looked behind
the window curtains to make sure that no one was concealed there. “Now,
princess,” he commenced, in a tone of solemnity, “now listen to what I
have to say to you.”