From this time forward Alexis Orloff was the inseparable companion of
Natalie. With the most reverential submission, and at the same time with
the tenderest affection, seemed he to be devoted to her, and equally to
adore her as his empress and his beloved.
He took pains to represent to her that she was necessarily and
inevitably destined to become an empress.
And she had comprehended him but too well. Ambition was awakened in this
young maiden of eighteen years; it was an imperial crown that called
her--why should she not listen to this call coming from the lips of
one in whom she had unlimited confidence, and toward whom she felt
infinitely grateful?
He had unfolded and explained all to her. He had told her of her mother,
the good Empress Elizabeth, who had made Russia so great and happy; he
had explained to her how Count Paulo Rasczinsky had flown with her
on the day of her mother’s death, in order to preserve her from the
pursuits of her mother’s successor, the cunning and cruel Peter III.,
and to insure to her the realm at a later period. He had then spoken to
her of Catharine, who had forcibly possessed herself of the throne of
her unworthy husband, and taken the reins of government into her own
hands. He had spoken to her of Catharine’s cruelty and despotic tyranny;
he had told her that all Russia groaned under the oppression of this
foreigner, and that a universal cry was heard through the whole realm,
of lamentation and longing, a cry for her, the Russian princess,
the grand-daughter of Peter the Great, the daughter of the beloved
Elizabeth.
“You are called for by all these millions of your oppressed subjects
now trodden in the dust,” said he; “toward you they stretch forth their
trembling hands, from you they expect relief and consolation, from you
they expect happiness!”
“And I will bring them happiness,” exclaimed Natalie, with emotion. “I
will dry the tears of misery and console the suffering. Oh, my people
shall love me as my mother once did!”
“The noblest of the land have pledged their property and their lives to
give you back to your people,” said Orloff; “we have solemnly sworn it
upon the altar of God, and for the attainment of this end no one of us
will shun want or death, treason or revolt. Look at me, Natalie! I stand
before you a traitor to this empress, to whom I have sworn faith and
obedience; she has heaped favors upon me, and at one time I was
even passionately devoted to her! But Count Paulo awoke me from that
intoxication; he roused me from the condition of a favorite of the
empress; he taught me to see the cruel, bloodthirsty empress in her true
form; he spoke to me of your sacred rights, and when I recognized
and comprehended them, I collected myself, vowed myself your knight,
devoting myself to the defence of your rights, and swore to leave no
artifices, no dissimulation, nor even treason itself, unessayed for the
promotion of this great, this sublime object! Princess Natalie, for your
sake I have become a traitor! The admiral of the Russian fleet, he whom
the world calls the favorite of the empress, Count Alexis Orloff, lies
at your feet and swears to you eternal faith, devotion, and adoration!”
“Alexis Orloff!” she joyfully exclaimed, “at length, then, I have a name
by which I can call you! Alexis, was not that the name of my father? Oh,
that is a good omen! You bear the name of my father, whom my mother so
dearly loved!”
“And whom the empress, impelled by love, raised to the position of her
husband,” whispered Orloff, bending nearer to her and pressing her hand
to his bosom. “Could you, indeed, love as warmly and devotedly as your
mother loved her Alexis?”
The young maiden blushed and trembled, but a sweet smile played upon her
lips, and although she cast down her eyes and did not look at him, yet
Count Orloff saw that he had given no offence, and might venture still
further.
He gently encircled her delicate form with his arm, and, inclining his
mouth so close to her ear that she felt his hot breath upon her cheek,
whispered: “Will Natalie love her Alexis as Elizabeth loved Alexis
Razumovsky? Ah, you know not how boundlessly, how immeasurably I love
you! Yes, immeasurably, Natalie. You are my happiness, my life, my
future. Command me, rule me, make of me a traitor, a murderer! I will do
whatever you command; at your desire I could even murder my own father!
Only tell me, Natalie, that you do not hate me; tell me that my love
will not be rejected by you; that this passion, under which I almost
succumb, has found an echo in your heart, and that you will one day say
to me, as Elizabeth said to your father, ‘Alexis, I love you, and will
therefore make you my husband!’ You are silent, Natalie; have you no
word of sympathy, of compassion for me! Ah, I offer up all to you, and
you--”
He could proceed no further; he saw her turn toward him; he suddenly
felt a glowing kiss upon his lips, and then, springing up from her seat,
she fled through the rooms like a frightened roe, and took refuge in her
boudoir, which she locked behind her.
Orloff glanced after her with a triumphant smile. “She is mine,” thought
he; “I am here living through a charming romance, and Catharine will be
satisfied with me!”
Yes, she was his; she now knew that she loved him, and with joyful
ecstasy she took this new and delightful feeling to her heart; she
welcomed it as the joy-promising dawn of a new day, a precious new life.
She permitted this feeling to stream through her whole being, her whole
soul; she made it a worship for her whole existence.
“You see,” she said to Marianne, “so had I dreamed the man whom I should
one day love. So brave, so proud, so beautiful. Ah, it is so charming to
be obliged to tremble before the man one loves; it is so sweet to cling
to him and think: ‘I am nothing of myself, but all through thee! I
am the ivy and thou the oak; thou wilt hold and sustain me, and if a
storm-wind comes, thou wilt not waver, but stand firm and great in thy
heroic strength, and protect me, and impart courage and confidence even
to me!’”
She loved him, and clung to him with boundless confidence, but she was
yet so full of tender maiden timidity that she could confess to him
nothing of this love; and since that kiss she shyly avoided him, and
constantly left his often-renewed love-questions unanswered.
At this Alexis secretly laughed. “She will come round,” said he; “she
will finally be compelled to it by her own feelings. I will give her
time and leisure to come to a knowledge of herself!”
And for some days he kept away from the villa, pretending pressing
business, and left the poor isolated princess to her languishing
love-dreams.
It was precisely in these days that, on one forenoon, a carriage of
indifferent appearance, adorned with no heraldic arms, stopped before
the villa; a man closely enveloped in a mantle, his hat pressed deeply
down over his forehead, issued from the carriage and rang the bell.
Of the servant who answered the bell he hastily inquired if the
princess was at home and alone; these questions being answered in the
affirmative, and the servant having asked his name in order to announce
him, the stranger said, almost in a commanding tone: “The princess knows
my name, and will gladly welcome me; therefore lead me directly to her!”
“The princess receives no one,” said the servant, placing himself in a
position to prevent the stranger’s entrance.
“She will receive me,” said the unknown, dropping some gold-pieces into
the servant’s hand.
“I will conduct you to her,” said the suddenly mollified servant, “but I
do it on your own responsibility.”
Princess Natalie was in her boudoir. She was alone, and thinking, in a
languishing reverie, of her friend, who had now been two days absent. On
hearing a light knock at the door, she sprang up from her seat.
“It is he!” she murmured, and with glowing cheeks she hastened to the
door.
But on finding there a strange and closely-enveloped form, Natalie
timidly drew back.
The stranger entered, closing the door behind him, threw back his mantle
and took off the hat that shaded his face.
“Cardinal Bernis!” cried Natalie, with surprise.
“Ah, then you yet recognize me, princess!” said Bernis. “That is
beautiful in you, and therefore you will not be angry with me for
calling upon you unannounced. I knew that I should find you alone, and
this was a too fortunate circumstance for me to let it pass unimproved.
I must speak to you, princess, even at the hazard of proving tiresome.”
Natalie said, with a soft smile: “You were the friend of Count Paulo,
and therefore can never prove tiresome to me! I bid you welcome,
cardinal!”
“It is precisely because I was Count Paulo’s friend, that I have come!”
said Bernis, seriously. “The count loved you, princess, and what I
did not know at the time is known to me now. Because he loved and
was devoted to you, he hazarded his life, and more than his life, his
liberty.”
“And they have robbed him of that precious liberty,” sighed Natalie.
“For his fidelity to me they have condemned him to a shameful
imprisonment!”
“You know that!” exclaimed Bernis, with astonishment, “you know that,
and nevertheless--” Then, interrupting himself, he broke off, and
after a pause continued: “Pardon me one question, and if you deem it
indiscreet, please remember that it is put to you by an old man and a
priest, and that his only object is, if possible to be useful to you. Do
you love Count Paulo Rasczinksy?”
“I love him,” said she, “as one loves a father. I shall always be
grateful to him, and shall never esteem myself happy until I have
liberated him and restored him to his country!”
“You liberate him!” sadly exclaimed Bernis. “Ah, then you know not, you
do not once dream, that you are yourself surrounded by dangers, that
your own liberty, indeed your life itself, is threatened.”
“I know it,” calmly responded the young maiden, “but I also know that
strong and powerful friends stand by my side, who will protect and
defend me with their lives.”
“But how if these friends are deceiving you--if precisely they are your
bitterest enemies and destroyers?”
“Sir Cardinal!” exclaimed Natalie, reddening with indignation.
“Oh, I may not anger you,” he continued, “but it is my duty to warn you,
princess! They have undoubtedly deceived you with false pretensions, and
in some deceitful way obtained your confidence. Tell me, princess, do
you know the name of this count whom you daily receive here?”
“It is Count Alexis Orloff,” said the young maiden, blushing.
“You know him, know his name, and yet you confide in him!” exclaimed the
cardinal. “But it cannot be that you know his history: have you any idea
to whom he is indebted for his prosperity and greatness?”
“The Empress Catharine, his mistress,” said Natalie, without
embarrassment.
The cardinal looked, with increasing astonishment, into her calm,
smiling face. “I now comprehend it all,” he then said; “they have laid a
very shrewd and cunning plan. They have deceived you while telling you a
part of the truth!”
“No one has deceived me,” indignantly responded Natalie. “I tell you,
Sir Cardinal, that I am neither deceived nor overreached, easy as you
seem to think it to deceive me!”
“Oh, it is always easy to deceive innocence and nobleness,” sadly
remarked the cardinal. “Listen to me, princess, and think, I conjure
you, that this time a true and sincere friend is speaking to you.”
“And how shall I recognize that?” asked the young maiden, with a slight
touch of irony. “How shall I recognize a friend, when, as you say, it is
precisely my pretended friends who are my enemies!”
“Recognize me by this!” said the cardinal, drawing a folded paper from
his bosom and handing it to the princess.
“That is Count Paulo’s handwriting!” she joyfully exclaimed.
“Ah, you recognize the handwriting,” said the cardinal, “and you see
that this letter is addressed to me. Count Paulo therefore considers me
his friend!”
“May I read this letter?”
“I beg you to do so.”
Natalie unfolded the letter and read: “Warn the Princess Tartaroff;
danger threatens her!”
“That is all?” she asked with a smile.
“That is all!” said the cardinal; “but when Paulo considered these few
words of sufficient importance to send them to me, you may well suppose
they are of the utmost significance.”
“Count Paulo is in Siberia,” said Natalie, shaking her head; “how could
he have written you from thence?”
“How he succeeded in doing so, I know not, but the firm, determined will
of man often conquers supposed impossibilities! Enough--in a mysterious,
enigmatical manner was this letter put into the hands of our ambassador
at St. Petersburg, with the most urgent prayer that he would immediately
send it to me by a special courier, with all the necessary particulars.”
“And was that done?” asked Natalie.
“It was done! I know why your life is threatened! Princess Tartaroff,
you are the daughter of the Empress Elizabeth; and therefore it is that
this Empress Catharine, upon her usurped throne, trembles with fear of
you--therefore was it that she said to her favorite: ‘Go, and deliver
me from this troublesome pretender. But do it in a sly, cautious, and
noiseless manner. Avoid attracting attention, murder her not, threaten
her not; I wish not to give people new reasons for calling me a
bloodthirsty woman. Entice her with flatteries into our net, induce her
to follow you voluntarily, that the people of no country in which she
may be may have an occasion to accuse us of using force.’ Thus did
Catharine speak to her favorite; he understood her and swore to execute
her commands, as he did when Catharine ordered him to throttle her
husband, the Emperor Peter; as he also did when she ordered him to shoot
poor Ivan, the son of Anna Leopoldowna, for the criminal reason that
he had a greater right to the imperial crown of Russia than this little
German princess of Zerbst!”
“And he shot that poor innocent Ivan!” shudderingly asked Natalie. “Ah,
this Catharine is bloodthirsty as a hyena, and her friends and favorites
are hangmen’s servants--ah, history will brand this murderer of Ivan!”
“It will,” solemnly responded Cardinal Bernis, “and people will shudder
when they hear the name of the man who strangled the Emperor Peter, who
shot Ivan, and who, at the command of Catharine, has come to Italy
to ensnare the noble and innocent Princess Tartaroff with cunning and
flatteries and convey her to St. Petersburg. Shall I tell you this man’s
name? He is called Alexis Orloff!”
The young maiden sprang up from her seat, her eyes flashed, and her
cheeks glowed.
“That is false,” said she--“a shameful, malicious falsehood!”
“Would to God it were so!” cried the cardinal. “But it is too true,
princess! Oh, listen to me, and close not your ears to the truth.
Remember that I am an old man, who has long observed men, and long
studied life. I know this Russian diplomacy, and this Russian craft;
they have in them something devilish; and these Russian diplomatists,
they poison and confound the shrewdest with their deceitful smiles
and infernal cunning. Guard yourself, princess, against this Russian
diplomacy, and, above all things, be on your guard against this
ambassador of the Russian empress, Alexis Orloff!”
“Ah, you dare to defame him!” cried the young maiden, trembling with
anger. “You have, therefore, never seen him; you have never read in his
noble face that Count Alexis Orloff can never betray. He is a hero, and
a hero never descends to a murder! Ah, if the whole world should rise
up against him, if it should point the finger at him and say: ‘That is
a murderer!’ I would cry in the face of the whole world: ‘Thou liest!
Alexis Orloff can never be a murderer! I know him better, and know that
he is pure and clear of every crime. You may continue to call him a
betrayer! I know why he suffers himself to be so called! I know the
secret of his conduct, and a day will come when you will all learn it;
when you will all feel compelled to fall down at his feet and confess,
“Alexis Orloff is no false betrayer!” For the sake of her to whom he
has vowed fidelity has he borne this shame. For her whom he loved has he
staked his blood and his life. Alexis Orloff is a hero!’”
She was strangely beautiful while speaking with such spirit and
animation. The cardinal observed her noble and excited features with an
admiration mingled with the most painful emotions.
“Poor child!” he murmured, dropping his head--“poor child, she loves
him, and is therefore lost!”
“You, then, do not believe me!” he asked aloud.
“No,” said she, with a glad smile--“no, all the happiness I ever expect,
all the good that may hereafter come to me, I shall receive only from
the hands of Alexis Orloff!”
“Poor child!” sighed the cardinal. “In many a case even death may prove
a blessing!”
“Then will I also joyfully receive even that from his hands!” cried the
young maiden, with enthusiasm.
“It is in vain, she is not to be helped!” murmured the cardinal, with
a melancholy shake of the head, and, grasping the hand of the young
maiden, with a compassionate glance at her fair face, he continued: “I
would gladly aid you, and thereby expiate the evil you once suffered
at my festival! But you will not consent to be aided. You rush to your
destruction, and it is your noblest qualities, your innocence, and your
generous confidence, which are preparing your ruin! May God bless you
and preserve you! How glad I should be to find myself a liar and false
prophet!”
“And you will so find yourself!” exclaimed Natalie.
“You believe it, because you are in love, and when a woman loves she
believes in the object of her love, and smilingly offers up her life
for him! Like all women, you will do so! You will sacrifice your life to
your love; and when this barbarian thrusts the dagger in your heart, you
will say with a smile: ‘I did it! I, myself--’”
And, bowing to her with a sad smile, slowly and sighing, the cardinal
left the room.
Some hours later came Alexis Orloff. Natalie received him with an
expression of the purest pleasure, and, extending both hands to him,
smilingly said:
“Know you yet what my mother said to her lover?”
Looking at her, he read his happiness in her face. With an exclamation
of ecstasy he fell at her feet.
“I know it well, but you, Natalie, do you also know it?” he passionately
asked.
Natalie smiled. “Alexis,” said she, “I love you, and therefore will I
raise you to my side as my husband!” and with a charming modest blush
she drew the count up to her arms.
“You do not deceive me, and this is no dream?” he cried, while glowingly
embracing her.
“No,” said she, “it is the truth, and I owe you this satisfaction.
You have been slandered to me to-day. Ah, they shall see how little I
believe them. Alexis, call a priest to bless our union, and make me your
wife. Whatever then may come, we will share it with each other. If I am
one day empress, you will be the emperor, and I will always honor and
obey you as my lord and master.”
On the evening of this day a very serious and solemn ceremony took place
in the boudoir of Princess Natalie. An altar wreathed with flowers stood
in the centre of the room, and before the altar stood Natalie in a white
satin robe, the myrtle-crown upon her head, the long bridal veil waving
around her delicate form. She was very beautiful in her joyful, modest
emotion, and Count Alexis Orloff, who, in a rich Russian costume stood
by her side, viewed her with ecstatic and warm desiring glances. The
inhuman executioner led the lamb to the slaughter without pity or
compunction!
At the other side of the altar stood the priest, a reverend old man,
with long flowing silver hair and beard. Near him the sacristan, not
less reverend in appearance. No one else was present except Marianne,
who, in tears, knelt behind her mistress, and with folded hands prayed
for her beloved princess, who was now marrying Count Alexis Orloff.
The solemn ceremony was at an end, and the young wife sank weeping into
the arms of her husband, who, with tenderest whisperings, led her into
the next room.
Marianne, overcome by her tears and emotions, hastened to her own room,
and the reverend priest remained alone with his sacristan.
They silently looked at each other, and their faces were distorted by a
knavish, grinning laugh.
“It was a wonderful scene,” said the priest, who was no other than
Joseph Ribas. “In earnest, I was quite affected by it myself, and I
came near weeping at my own sublime homily. Confess, Stephano, that a
consecrated priest could not have better gone through the ceremony.”
“We have both performed our parts,” simpered Stephano, the sacristan,
“and I think the count must be satisfied with us.”
At that moment the count returned to the room. Natalie had begged to be
left alone--she needed solitude and prayer.
The priest, Joseph Ribas, and the sacristan, Stephano, gave him sly,
interrogating glances.
“I am satisfied with you,” said Orloff, with a smile. “You are both
excellent actors. This new little countess was pleased and touched by
your discourse, Joseph, my very worthy priest. Where did you learn this
new villainy?”
“In the high school of the galleys, your excellency,” said Ribas. “Only
there is one taught such precious things. We had a priest there, a real
consecrated priest, who was sentenced for life. From _ennui_ he gave
lessons to the smartest among us in his art, and taught us how to fold
the hands, roll the eyes, and render the voice tremulous. But now, your
excellency, one thing! You desired to know who it was that warned your
princess to-day. I can now give you information on that point. It was
the French Cardinal Bernis!”
“They are, therefore, beginning to observe our movements,” thoughtfully
remarked Orloff, “and these gentlemen diplomatists wish to take a hand
in the game. Ah, we understand the French policy. It is the same now
that it was when they helped to make the Princess Elizabeth empress. At
that time they interposed, that Russia might be so occupied with her own
affairs as to have no time for looking into those of France. Precisely
so is it to-day. They would compassionate the daughter as they did the
mother. With the help of Natalie they would again bless Russia with
a revolution, that we might not have time to observe the events now
fermenting in France. But this time we shall be more cautious, my
shrewd French cardinal. Stephano, let every preparation be made for
our immediate departure. We are no longer safe and unobserved here.
Therefore we will go to Leghorn.”
“We alone, or with the princess?” asked Stephano.
“My wife will naturally accompany me,” said Orloff, with a derisive
smile.
“Will she consent to leave Rome?” asked Joseph Ribas.
“I shall request her to do so,” proudly replied Orloff, “and I think my
request will be a command to her.”
And the proud count was not mistaken. His request was a command for
her. He told her she must leave Rome because she was no longer in safety
there, and Princess Natalie believed him.
“We will go to Leghorn, and there await the arrival of the Russian
fleet,” said he. “When that fleet shall have safely arrived, then our
ends will be attained, then we shall have conquered, for then it will
be evident that the empress has conceived no suspicion; and I am the
commander of that fleet, which is wholly manned with conspirators who
all await you as their empress. Will you follow me to Leghorn, Natalie?”
She clung with tender submissiveness to his bosom.
“I will follow you everywhere,” murmured she, “and any place to which
you conduct me will be a paradise for me!”