“It is now high time!” said Joseph Ribas, one day, as, coming from
Natalie, he entered the boudoir of Count Alexis Orloff. “Now, your
excellency, the right moment has come! You must show yourself, or this
curious child will consume herself with a longing that has changed her
blood to fire! She thinks of nothing but you; with open eyes she dreams
of you, and without the least suspicion that any one is listening to
her, she speaks to you, ah, with what modest tenderness and with what
humble devotion! I tell you, your excellency, you are highly blessed.
There is no child more innocent, no woman more glowing with love. And
she knows it not; no, she has not the least suspicion that she already
loves you with enthusiasm, and thirsts for your kisses as the rose for
the morning dew! She knows nothing of her love!”
“She shall learn something of it!” said Orloff, laughing. “It will be
a pleasant task to enlighten this little unknowing one as to her own
feelings. And I flatter myself I understand how to do that.”
“Endeavor, above all things, your excellency, to realize the ideal she
bears in her heart. She expects to see nothing less than an Apollo,
whose radiant beauty will annihilate her as Jupiter did Semele!”
“Well, in that, I hope she has not deceived herself,” responded Orloff,
with a self-satisfied glance into the mirror. “If I am not Jupiter, yet
they call me Hercules, and he, you know, was the son of Jupiter, and,
indeed, his handsomest son!”
“And be you not only a Hercules, but a Zephyr and Apollo, at the same
time. Make her tremble before your heroic character, and at the same
time win her confidence in your humble, modest love--then is she yours.
You must cautiously and noiselessly spread your nets, you must not wound
her delicate sensitiveness by a word or look, or she will flee from you
like a frightened gazelle!”
“Oh, should she wish to flee, my arms are strong enough to hold her!”
“Yet is it better to hold her so fast by her own enthusiasm, that she
shall not wish to flee,” said Ribas. “You must entirely intoxicate her
with your humble and respectful love--then is she yours!”
“Does she know I am coming?” thoughtfully asked Orloff.
“No, she knows nothing of it. She sits in the garden and sighs,
occasionally grasping the golden guitar that lies on her arm, and asks
of the flowers: ‘What is the name of my unknown friend? In what star
does he dwell, and how shall I invoke him?’”
“I will, then, surprise her!” said Orloff. “Let her anticipate my
coming, but do not promise it. It begins to grow dark. Where is she,
evenings?”
“Always in the garden. There she sighs and dreams of you!”
“Persuade her to go into the house, and let it be well lighted up!
I would appear to her in the full splendor of the lights! Ha, you
ragamuffins, you hounds, bring me my oriental costume, the richest,
handsomest; hasten, or I will throttle you!”
And Count Orloff hurried into his toilet-chamber, to the trembling
slaves who there awaited him.
With a sly smile Joseph Ribas returned to the villa. As he had
previously said, he found Natalie dreaming in the garden, the guitar
upon her arm.
“You ought to go into the house this evening,” said he, “the air is damp
and cold, and may injure you.”
“Of what consequence would that be?” she sadly responded. “Who would ask
whether I was ill nor not? Who would weep for my death?”
“He!”
“Oh, he!” sighed she. “He hates all women!”
“Excepting you!” whispered Ribas. “Princess, go into the house! Take
care of your precious life. It is not I who beg it of you!”
“Who is it then?” she hastily interposed.
“It is he! He begs it of you!”
Natalie, springing up, hurried into the house.
“I will never again go into the garden in the evening!” said she. “It is
his command! Thank God, there is yet something in which I can obey, and
he commands it of me! But why these lights?” asked she, almost blinded
by the brilliancy of the girandoles and chandeliers, the mirrors, and
jewels.
“The count has so commanded!” said Ribas. “He loves a bright light! But,
princess, cannot you remain in this boudoir for one evening? Only see
how beautiful it is, how enticingly cool, with these fountains that
refresh the air and diffuse fragrance! How delightfully still and snug
it is! Reposing upon these velvet cushions, you can look through the
whole suite of rooms, which in fact, tonight, flash and sparkle like the
heavens, and yet in this boudoir there is a sweet twilight, refreshing
to eye and heart!”
“No, no,” said she, with a charming smile. “I also like brightness and
light! It is too dusky here!”
“Nevertheless, remain here!”
“And why?”
“He wishes it!” said Ribas mysteriously.
“He wishes it?” cried Natalie, turning pale, and trembling. Then,
suddenly, a purple flush spread over her brow, and, reeling, she was
obliged to hold by a chair to prevent falling. “Ah,” she stammered, “can
it be possible? Can this happiness be intended? Is it true, what I read
in your eyes? Is it? Comes he here?”
“Hope always!” said Ribas, suddenly disappearing through a side-door.
Natalie, benumbed by surprise, sank down upon the divan. A feeling of
boundless anxiety, of immeasurable ecstasy suddenly overcame her.
She could have fled, but she felt as if spell-bound; she could have
concealed herself from him, and yet was joyfully ready to purchase
with her life the happiness of seeing him. It was a strange mixture of
delight and terror, of happiness and despair. She spread her arms toward
heaven, she sought to pray, but she had no words, no thoughts, not even
tears!
A slight rustle made her rise. Almost with terror flew her glance
through the suite of rooms. There below she saw the approach of
something strange, singular, magical. It was a never-before-seen
form, but surrounded by a wonderfully bright halo, enveloped in rich,
glittering garments, such as she had never before seen. It was a
strange, unknown face, but of a sublime, heroic beauty, proud and noble,
bold and mild.
“That is he!” she breathlessly and sadly murmured--“yes, that is he!
That is a man and a hero! Ah, I shall die under his glance!”
He still continued to approach, and with every forward step he made
she felt her heart contract with anxiety, admiration, and a feverish
sadness.
Now he stood on the threshold of the boudoir--his glance fell upon her.
And she? She lay, or rather half knelt upon the divan, motionless, pale
as a marble statue, with that divine smile which we admire in ancient
sculpture.
Touching was she to behold, white and delicate as a lily, so humble and
devoted, so shelter-needing and love-imploring!
But Count Orloff felt neither sympathy nor compassion. He saw only that
she was beautiful as an angel, an admirable woman, whom he desired to
possess!
Proud as a king, and at the same time very reverential and submissive,
he approached and sank upon his knee before the divan upon which she
reclined in trembling yet blissful sadness.
“Princess Natalie,” he murmured low, “will you be angry with your slave
for daring to intrude upon you without knowing whether he would be
welcome?”
She breathed freer. It was a relief to her to hear his voice--it made
her feel easier. He was no magician, no demon, he was a man, and spoke
to her with human words! That gave her courage and strength, it gave
her back the consciousness of her own dignity. She was ashamed of her
anxiety, her trembling, her childish helplessness. Yet she could say
nothing, answer nothing. She only gave him her hand, and with a charming
smile, an inimitable grace, and welcomed him with a silent inclination
of the head.
Taking her hand he pressed it to his lips. His touch seemed to kindle
in her an electric glow, and with something like alarm she withdrew her
hand.
“Are you, then, angry with me?” he asked in a tone of sadness.
“No,” said she, “I am not angry, but I fear you. You are so great a
hero, and your sword has done so many brave deeds. I looked at your
sword, and it alarmed me.”
Count Orloff gave her a surprised and interrogating glance. Why said
she that? Had she some suspicion, some mistrust, or was it only a
presentiment, an inexplicable instinct, that made her tremble at his
sword?
“No, she suspects nothing,” thought he, as he gazed upon that
pure, innocent, childish brow, which was turned toward him in pious
confidence, and yet with timid hesitation.
He loosened his sword from his girdle, sparkling with diamonds, and
humbly laid both at Natalie’s feet.
“Princess,” said he, “the empress herself girded me with this sword, and
I swore it should never leave my side but with my life. You are dearer
to me than my life or my honor, and I therefore break my sacred oath.
Take my sword, I am now without arms, and you will no longer have
occasion to tremble before me.”
She smilingly shook her head. “You still remain a hero, though without
arms--it lies in your eyes!”
“I would close my eyes,” said he, “but then I should not see you,
princess, and I have already so long languished for a sight of you!”
“Why, then, came you not sooner?” she asked, now feeling herself
entirely cheerful and unembarrassed. “Oh, did you but know how
impatiently I have awaited you!”
And with childish innocence she began to relate how much she had thought
of him, how often she had dreamed of him, how she had sometimes spoken
aloud to him, and almost thought she heard his answers!
Count Orloff listened to her with surprise and delight. Thus had he not
expected to find her, so childishly cheerful, so charmingly innocent,
and yet at the same time with so much maidenly reserve, so much natural
dignity. Now she laughed like a child, now was her face serious and
proud, now again tender and timid. She was at once a timid child and a
glowing woman; she was innocent as an angel, and yet so full of sweet,
unconscious maiden coquetry. She enchanted, while inspiring devotion,
she excited passions and desires, while, with a natural maiden dignity,
she kept one within the bounds of respect. She was entirely different
from what Orloff had expected; perhaps less beautiful, less dazzling,
but infinitely more lovely. She enchanted him with her smile, and her
innocent childish face touched him.
“Speak on, speak on!” said he, when she became silent. “It is delightful
to listen to you, princess.”
“Why do you call me so?” asked she, with a slight contraction of her
brow. “It is such a strange cold word! It does not at all belong to
me, and it is only within the last few months that I have been thus
addressed. With wise and tender forbearance, Paulo long delayed
informing me that I was a princess, and that was beautiful in him. To be
a princess and yet an orphan, a poor, deserted, helpless child, living
upon the charity of a friend, and tremulously clinging to his protecting
hand! See, that is what I am, a poor orphan; why, then, do you call me
princess!”
“Because you are so in reality,” responded Orloff, pressing the hem of
her garment to his lips--“because I am come to lead you to your splendid
and powerful future!--because I will glorify you above all women on
earth, and make you mistress of this great empire.”
She regarded him with a dreamy smile. “You speak as Paulo often spoke
to me,” said she. “He also swore to me that he would one day place an
imperial crown upon my head, and elevate me to great power! I understood
him as little as I understand you!”
A slight scornful smile momentarily passed over Orloff’s features.
“Catharine has therefore rightly divined,” thought he, “and her wise
mind rightly understood this Rasczinsky. There was, indeed, question of
an imperial crown, and this was to have been the new little empress!”
Aloud he said: “You will soon understand me, princess, and it is time
you knew of what crown Paulo spoke.”
“I know it not,” said she, “nor do I desire to know it! Perhaps it was
a jest, with which he sought to console me when I complained of being
a homeless orphan, a poor child, who knew not even the name of her
mother!”
“Do you not know that?” exclaimed Orloff, with astonishment.
She sadly shook her head. “They would never tell it me,” said she. “But
I have her image in my heart, and that, at least, I shall never lose or
forget!”
“I knew your mother,” said Orloff; “she was beautiful as you are, and
mild and merciful.”
“You knew her!” exclaimed the young maiden, grasping his hand and
looking at him with a confiding friendliness. “Oh, you knew her! You
will now be doubly dear to me, for those bright eyes have seen my
mother, and perhaps this hand which now rests in mine has also touched
hers!”
“That,” said Count Orloff, with a smile, “I should not have dared to do;
it would have been high-treason!”
“Was she, then, so great a sublime a princess?” asked Natalie.
“She was an empress!”
“An empress!” And the young maiden, sprang up with beaming eyes and
glowing cheeks. “My mother was an empress!” said she, breathing hard.
“Empress Elizabeth of Russia.”
Overcome by the feelings suddenly excited by this news, Natalie sank
again upon her seat and covered her face with her hands. Tears gushed
out between her delicate, slender fingers; her whole being was in
violent, feverish commotion. Then, raising her arms toward heaven, with
a celestial smile, while the tears overflowed her face, she said: “I am,
then, no longer a homeless orphan; I have a fatherland, and my mother
was an empress!”
Count Orloff respectfully kissed the hem of her garment.
“You are the daughter of an empress,” said he, “and will yourself be an
empress! That was what Paulo wished, and therefore have they condemned
him as a criminal. What he was unable to accomplish must be done by
me, and for that purpose have I come. Princess Natalie, your fatherland
calls you, your throne awaits you! Follow me to your crowning in the
city of your fathers--follow me, that I may place the crown of your
grandfather, Peter the Great, upon your noble and beautiful head!”