ANTICIPATION
From that day had a new and marvellous life commenced for Natalie. She felt herself surrounded by a dreamy, magic, fantastic, supernatural life; it seemed as if some invisible genius hovered over her, listening to all her thoughts, realizing all her wishes! And Joseph Ribas was the merry, always-cheerful, always-serious Kobold of this invisible deity!
“My lord is not satisfied with the modest furnishing of your villa,” said he to Natalie, on the first day. “He begs to be allowed to adorn your chamber with a splendor suited to your rank and your future greatness!”
“And in what is my future greatness to consist?” asked the young maiden, with curiosity.
“That will be made known to you at the proper time,” mysteriously replied Joseph Ribas.
“Who will tell me?”
“He, the count.”
“I shall therefore see him!” she joyfully exclaimed.
“Perhaps! Will you, however, first allow me to have your room properly furnished?”
“This villa belongs to your lord,” said Natalie. “It is for him, as lord and master, to do as he pleases in it.”
And satisfied, Ribas hastened away, to return in a few hours with more than fifty workmen and artists, in order to commence the improvements.
Until now the villa had been finished and furnished with simple elegance. One missed nothing necessary for comfort or convenience, for pleasantness or taste. But it was still only the elegant and fashionable residence of a private person. Now, as by the stroke of a magic wand, this villa in a few days was converted into the splendid palace of some sultan or caliph. There were heavy Turkish carpets on the floors, velvet curtains with gold embroidery at the windows and on the walls, the richest and most comfortable divans and arm-chairs, covered with gold-embroidered stuffs; vases ornamented with the most costly precious stones, noble bronze statues, beautiful paintings, and between them the rarest ornaments, glistening with jewels, which modern times have designated by the name of ribs; there were delicate little trifles of inestimable value, and with refined taste and judgment every thing was sought out which luxury and convenience could demand. With childish astonishment and ecstasy, Natalie wandered through these rooms, which she hardly recognized in their splendid ornamentation, and stood before these treasures of trifles which she hardly dared to touch.
“This lord must be either a magician or a nabob,” thoughtfully remarked Marianne; “it must have required millions to effect all this.”
Natalie asked neither whether he was a magician, a millionaire, or a nabob; she only thought she was to see him, and be allowed to thank him—nothing further.
“Will he come now?” she constantly asked of the humble and slavishly devoted Joseph Ribas; “will he come now that his house is prepared for his reception?”
“It is adorned only for you, princess,” humbly replied Ribas. “The count, my master, wishes for nothing but to see you in a habitation worthy of you!”
But what was this luxury, what cared she for these treasures the value of which she was incapable of estimating, and which were indifferent to her? She who had no conception of wealth or of money?—she, who knew not that there was poverty in the world, and who, raised in an Eden separated from the world, had no idea that hunger had ever made its appearance within it—she knew only the sorrows of the happy, the deprivations of the rich; she had never had either to struggle against real misfortune or to experience real want and deprivation.
Now, indeed, a deeper sorrow had entered into her life; she had lost her beloved paternal friend, Count Paulo; and Carlo, also, had been torn from her! That was certainly a more profound sorrow, and she had wept much for both of them,—but yet that was no real misfortune. She had never yet lost the whole substance of her life; for those two, however much she might always have loved them, had nevertheless, not entirely filled out her life; they had been a part of her happiness, but not that happiness itself.
And she awaited happiness! She awaited it with ecstasy and devotion, with feverish hope and glowing desire! She knew not and asked not in what this happiness was to consist, and yet her heart yearned for it; she called for this unknown and nameless happiness with a throbbing bosom and tremulously whispering lips!
She was so much alone, she had so much time for dreaming, and intoxicating herself with fantastic imaginations! She was surrounded by a fabulous world, and she was the fairy of that world! But out of that fabulous world she sometimes longed to be, out of the ideal into the real; she yearned for truth and actuality. Then she would call Joseph Ribas to her side and bid him relate to her of that unknown lord, his master.
He told her of his battles and his heroic deeds, of his wonderful acts of bravery, and the young maiden tremblingly and shudderingly listened to him. She feared this man, who had shed streams of blood, and whose enemies with their dying lips had lauded as the greatest of heroes! And Joseph Ribas smiled when he saw her turn pale and tremble, and he would speak to her of his generosity and humanity, of his knighthood and virtue; he related to her how, on one occasion, at the risk of his life he had protected and saved a persecuted young maiden; how on another he had taken pity on a helpless old man, and singly had defended him against a host of bloodthirsty enemies. He also spoke to her of the sorrow of his master on account of the ingratitude and deceptions he had experienced, and Natalie’s eyes filled with tears as, with reproachful glances, she asked of Heaven how it could have permitted the virtue of this noble unknown hero to be so severely tried, and the baseness of mankind to trouble him.
“That is it, then,” Ribas would often say; “he diffuses happiness everywhere around him, while he himself has it not! He makes glad and cheerful faces wherever he appears, and his own is the only serious and sad brow. Mankind have made him hopeless, and for himself he no longer believes in happiness!”
Ah, how then did the heart of this innocent child tremble, and how she longed to find some means for restoring his belief in happiness.
“But why does he not come to those who love him?” asked she. “Why does he decline the thanks of those whose hearts are truly devoted to him? Ah, in our humid eyes and joy-beaming faces he would recognize the truthfulness of our feelings! Why, then, comes he not?”
“I will tell you,” said Ribas, with a smile; “he hates women, because the only one he ever loved was false to him, and now his love is changed to ardent hatred of all women!”
“I shall therefore never see him!” sighed the girl, hanging her head with the sadness of disappointment.
This expectation, this constantly increasing impatience, rendered her inaccessible to any other feeling, any other thought. He of whom she did not know even the name, was sent by Paulo, and therefore had she believed and confided in him from the first. Now had she already forgotten that she had confided in him on Paulo’s account; she believed in him on his own account, and Paulo had retreated into the background. Occasionally also the bloody image of poor Carlo presented itself to her mind, and she secretly reproached herself for having mourned him for so short a time, for having so soon forgotten that faithful, self-sacrificing friend.
But even these reproaches were soon silenced when with a throbbing bosom she thought of this new friend, who like a divinity hovered over her at an infinite and unattainable distance, and whose mysteriously active nearness replaced both of those friends she had lost, and for whom she could no longer mourn.
HE!
“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!”
THE WARNING
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!”