_MILLER’S REPLY._
The words of Miller disturbed Ekaterina very much.
“Well, candid at any rate,” thought she; “just like a philosopher.”
“Very well,” said the empress; “let the dead rest in peace; we will
talk about the living. I think General Potemkin has sent you the
examination, and the evidence taken in respect of that impudent
Pretender, the arrest of whom you have heard about, I suppose?”
“Yes, he sent them,” answered Miller, remembering at last that the
spectacles for which he had been constantly searching with his eyes
were on his forehead, and wondering how he could have forgotten that.
“Well, and what have you to say of that worthy sister of the Marquis
Pougachoff?” asked Ekaterina.
Miller at that very moment caught sight, through the glass door, of
one of his canaries, a very quarrelsome bird, who had just flown into
another’s nest, the mistress of which was twittering, flying round, and
trying to turn her out. His eyes also wandered to a sick blackbird with
its leg bound up.
Miller, recollecting himself, and colouring at his own timidity and
absent-mindedness, answered,--
“The Princess, if she is Russian, learnt Russian history very
insufficiently; that’s the main thing I have to say, after reading her
papers; but of course, that would be more her teacher’s fault.”
“Well, what do you think? Can it be that there is a spark of truth in
her tale?” asked Ekaterina. “Do you suppose for one moment that the
Empress Elizabeth might have had such a daughter, and hidden her from
all eyes?”
Miller was just on the point of answering: “Oh! yes, of course; what is
there in all that so very improbable?” but he remembered at that minute
about the mysterious youth, Alexis Shkourin, travelling now in foreign
parts, and in his confusion fixed his eyes on the glass door of his
aviary.
“Well, and why do you not answer?” said Ekaterina, smiling. “Your
Lutheranism does not stand in the way here.”
“Well, everything is possible, your Majesty,” said Miller, shaking his
grey curly head. “People do say all sorts of things; some of them may
be true.”
“Look here--would it not be strange?” said Ekaterina. “The late
Razoumovski was a very good man, and although secretly, still he was
the lawful, husband of Elizabeth. Why trample under foot all the laws
of nature? Why this heartless denial of their own daughter?”
“Then it was one century, now it’s another,” answered Miller. “Morals
differ; if the new Shouiski-Shouvalovi could hide for so many years in
solitary confinement the, to them, dangerous Prince John, proclaimed in
his infancy emperor, what is there here so very strange, if, in their
thirst after influence and power, they should have sent to the end of
the earth, or, at any rate, hidden another infant, this unfortunate
Princess?”
“But, Gerard Feodorovitch, you forget the most important thing--the
mother! How could the empress have borne that? You cannot deny her
heart was in the right place; and then, all this was not about a
strange child, like Ivanushka, but about her own forsaken daughter.”
“Well! oh, it is very simple,” answered Miller. “Razoumovski, I should
think, had nothing at all to do with it. The whole intrigue was
brought to bear on the empress--not on the mother.… Very likely, many
reasons were brought forward, and she consented. This secret daughter
was hidden, sent to the South, and then over the Urals. In the papers
of the Princess she speaks of poison, of flight from Siberia to Persia,
afterwards to Germany, and then to France.… The Shouiskis of our days
have repeated the old tragedy. In guarding the empress, they still
kept in readiness for any emergency, a new refugee, saved by them from
another world.”
Ekaterina here remembered that Orloff, in one of his letters, had
spoken of a Russian traveller, Ivan Shouvaloff, who was even now in
foreign parts.
“With you, one might go on talking for ever,” said Ekaterina, rising.
“Your memory in itself is a whole archive, and a priceless one, too;
and Russian history, is it not true? like Russia itself, is richest
virgin-soil. How lovely our boundless corn-fields! But then, again, the
weeds. Ah, _àpropos_! I do always admire your flowers and your birds.
Now, do pay me a visit at Tzaritzin. Grimme has sent me a whole family
of the loveliest cockatoos. One of them is always repeating ‘_où est la
vérité?_’”
Having with special graciousness thanked Miller for his information,
the empress returned to the palace. Soon after this event, the hero of
Chesma, Orloff, made his appearance.
Alexis Gregorevitch failed to recognise the court. With new faces, a
new order of things had been introduced. The count did not at once
receive the honour of an interview with the empress. He was told she
was not quite well. This made him feel very anxious. Well versed in
court life, he scented disfavour in the air. It became urgent to take
measures. Very diffidently, Alexis Gregorevitch turned to some of
the courtiers to try and get an audience with the new sun, Potemkin.
The interview took place with great politeness on both sides, but
no geniality. Their old friendship and fraternity had been left far
behind. They conversed till midnight, but the guest felt he had learnt
very little.
“Yes, now it’s all without measure, all overflowing,” said Potemkin _en
passant_, speaking about something. Orloff long pondered over those
words. “Overflowing!”--well, had not he also filled the measure too
full?
In the morning he was invited to go to the empress, whom he found
bathing her dogs. “Sir Tom Anderson,” who had already been taken out
of the bath and wiped dry, was warming himself under his coverlet. His
consort, “Mimi,” was still in the water. Ekaterina sat near, holding
ready the warm coverlet. Perekousikhin, in a large apron, her sleeves
rolled up to the elbows, was very energetically rubbing the little dog
with a sponge and soap. Quite wet, and white from the soap, Mimi, on
seeing the big goggle-eyed stranger, began barking most furiously and
straining to get at him.
“Ah! from water to water,” said Ekaterina jokingly. “Welcome back to
your native land. We shall soon be ready.”
Having wrapped Mimi up warmly and put her in the basket, the empress
dried her hands, and remarked:--
“As you see, friends first of all!” She took a seat, pointed out a
chair to Orloff, and began questioning him about his journeys, about
Italy, and the Turkish affairs.
“But, oh! Batiushka Alexis Gregorevitch, you oversalted, oversalted
it,” said the empress, producing her snuff-box, and slowly taking a
pinch.
“In what, your Majesty?”
“In that certain little affair,” smilingly answered Ekaterina,
menacing him with her finger.
Orloff noticed the smile, but at the same time, in that very same joke,
he noticed a well-known--to him--bad sign. The round, strong chin of
Ekaterina trembled slightly.
“In what? Matoushka Tzaritza, and in what is my crime?” he asked,
stammering.
“_Comment donc, Monsieur?_ Yes, really oversalted it,” continued
Ekaterina, slowly taking another pinch from her snuff-box.
At this, Orloff, like a child, lost all self-possession; his eyes
wandered timorously round the room.
“You know; our captive,” said the empress,--“Oh, I suppose you’ve heard
it; she’ll soon be two.…”
The athlete Orloff knew not what to do in his confusion.
“I am lost, completely lost!” thought he; and his disgrace, his
downfall arose before his eyes. “Mercy, oh God!”
“But that we may arrange, matters may be mended,” continued Ekaterina.
“You might go to Petersburg, see the captive. To celebrate the peace,
you have returned to her as her bridegroom.”
Orloff knit his brows, bent one knee to the ground, kissed the hand
that was held out to him, and silently left the room. At the door, he
regained his self-composure.
“Well! what! the empress! What did she say?” asked the courtiers.
“I have been honoured with a special invitation to the fêtes,” answered
the count, “and now I am going to Petersburg to arrange my brother’s
affairs.”
Count Orloff tried to seem very elated, very proud.… He understood that
it was better for him to make haste. It was clear that the empress
was not joking. Under pretence of an interview with his brother, he
hastened the preparations for his journey, and was soon on his way to
Petersburg.