Night had come. The lights in palaces and houses were gradually extinguished. St. Petersburg began to sleep, or at least to give itself the appearance of sleeping. The regent, Anna Leopoldowna, also, had already dismissed her household and withdrawn into her private apartments.
It was a fine starlight night. Anna leaned upon the window-frame, thoughtfully and dreamily glancing up at the heavens. Her eyes gradually filled with tears, which slowly rolled down her cheeks and fell upon her hands. She was startled by the falling of these warm, glowing drops. She was thinking of Lynar, of the distant, warmly-desired one, to whom she would gladly have devoted her whole existence, but to whom she could belong only through falsehood. She thought it would be nobler and greater to renounce him, that her love might be consecrated by her abnegation, while actually devoting her life to the duties enjoined by the laws and the Church. But these thoughts filled her bosom with a nameless sorrow, and it was involuntarily that she wept.
“No,” she murmured low, “I cannot make this sacrifice; I cannot make an offering of my love to my virtue; for this bugbear of a compulsory marriage I cannot give up a love which God Himself has inspired in my heart. Then let it be so! Let the world judge and the priests condemn me. I will not sacrifice my love to a prejudice. I know that this is sinful, but God will have compassion on the sinner who has no other happiness on earth than this only one—a love that controls her whole being. And if this sin must be punished, oh, my Maker, I pray you to pardon him, and let the punishment fall on me alone!”
Thus speaking, she raised her arms and directed her eyes toward the heavens in fervent prayer. Suddenly a brilliant light flashed through the air—a star had shot from its sphere, and, after a short course, had become extinguished.
“That bodes misfortune,” said Anna, with a shudder, her head sinking upon her breast.
At this moment there was a loud knocking at her door, and Prince Ulrich, Anna’s husband, earnestly demanded admission.
Anna hastened to open, asking with surprise the cause of his unusual visit.
“Anna,” said the prince, hastily entering, “I come to warn you once more. Again has a warning letter been mysteriously conveyed to me. I have just found it upon my night-table. See for yourself. It implores us to be on our guard. It informs us that we are threatened with a frightful danger, that Elizabeth conspires, and that we are lost if we do not instantly take preventive measures.”
Anna read the warning letter, and then smilingly gave it back to her husband.
“Always the same old song, the same croaking of the toad,” said she. “Count Ostermann has taken it into his head that Elizabeth is conspiring, and doubtless all these warning letters come from him. Read them no more in future, my husband, and now let us retire to rest.”
“And what if it were, nevertheless, true,” said the prince, pressingly—“if we are really threatened with a great danger? A word from you can turn it away. Let us, therefore, be careful! Remember your son, Anna—his life is also threatened! Protect him, mother of the emperor! Allow me, the generalissimo of your forces, to take measures of precaution! Let me establish patrols, and cause a regiment, for whose fidelity I can be answerable, to guard the entrances of the palace!”
Anna smilingly shook her head. “No,” said she, “nothing of all that shall be done! Such precautions manifest suspicion, and would wound the feelings of this good Elizabeth. She is innocent, believe me. I yesterday sharply observed her, and she came out from the trial pure. It would be ignoble to distrust her now. Moreover, she has my princely word that I will always listen only to herself, and believe no one but her. In the morning I will go to her and show her this letter, that she may have an opportunity to justify herself.”
“You therefore consider her wholly innocent?” asked the prince, with a sigh.
“Yes, perfectly innocent. Her firm demeanor, her asseverations, her tears, have convinced me that it was unjust in us to believe the hateful rumors that had spread concerning her. Let us therefore retire in peace and quiet. No danger threatens us from Elizabeth!”
There was something convincing and tranquillizing in Anna’s immovable conviction; the prince felt his inability to oppose her, and was ashamed of his feminine fears in the face of her masculine intrepidity.
With a sigh he took his leave and returned to his own room. At the door he turned once again.
“Anna,” said he, with solemnity, “you have decided upon our destiny, and God grant that it may eventuate happily! But should it be otherwise, should the monstrous and terrible break in upon you, then, at least, remember this hour, in which I warned you, and confess that I am free from all blame!”
Without awaiting an answer, with a drooping head and deep sigh, the prince left the room.
Anna looked after him with a compassionate smile.
“Poor prince!” she murmured low, “he is always so timid and trembling; that indicates unhappiness! He loves me, and I cannot force my heart to return the feeling. Poor prince, it must be very sad to love and be unloved!”
With a sigh she closed the door through which her husband had passed.
“I will now sleep,” said she. “Yes, sleep! Possibly Heaven may send me a pleasant dream, and I may see my Lynar! But no, I must first go to Ivan, to ascertain whether his slumber is tranquil.”
With hasty steps she repaired to the adjacent chamber, which was that of the young emperor.
There all was still. Before the door opening upon the corridor she heard the regular step of the soldier on guard. The waiters upon the emperor were slumbering upon mattresses around him. It was a picture of profound tranquillity.
With light steps Anna approached the cradle of her son, and, bending down over him, regarded him with tender maternal glances, while his still and peaceful slumber seemed to touch her heart with a sweet emotion.
“Sleep, my dear child, my charming little emperor,” she murmured—“sleep, and in your dreams may you play with angels as beautiful as yourself!”
Bending again over the cradle, she breathed a light kiss upon the rosy lips of her child, and then noiselessly returned to her own chamber.
“And now,” said she, drawing a long breath, “now will I, also, sleep and dream! Good-night, my beloved; good-night, Lynar!”
With a happy smile she reclined upon her couch, and soon slumbered.
At this moment the clock in the next chamber struck the twelfth hour. Slowly and solemnly resounded the tones of the striking clocks that announced the midnight.
At this same hour a lively movement commenced in the palace of the Princess Elizabeth. Lights were seen glancing from window to window, hurrying shadows were seen coming and going in the rooms, every thing there announced an activity unusual for the hour, and certainly it was a signal good fortune for Elizabeth that Anna had forbidden her husband’s sending a patrol through the streets. One single patrol passing the palace might have frustrated the whole conspiracy!
But the streets were perfectly quiet; nowhere was a sentinel or watchman to be seen.
The slight creaking and whizzing of a sledge upon the crackling snow was now heard; it came nearer and nearer, and then there was a knocking at the palace gate. The porter opened, and two sledges drove into the court.
The first, with a rich covering and magnificent ornaments, was empty. But Lestocq was seen to spring out of the second, and hurriedly enter the palace.
Elizabeth, splendidly dressed, sparkling with brilliants, was waiting in her small reception-room. No one but Alexis Razumovsky was with her. Neither of them spoke, and their visages plainly discovered that they were in a state of painfully uncomfortable suspense.
Elizabeth was pale and had a convulsive twitching about her mouth, her form trembled feverishly, and she was obliged to cling to Razumovsky, to prevent falling.
“Did you hear the opening of the court-yard gate?” she breathed low. “Lestocq is not yet here, and it is past midnight. Certainly he is arrested, all is discovered, and we are lost! I am fearfully anxious, Alexis; I already seem to feel the sword at my throat. Ah, hear you not steps in the corridor? They come this way. They are my pursuers. They come to conduct me to the scaffold! Save me, Alexis, save me!”
And with a shrill cry of anguish the princess clung to the neck of her favorite.
The door was now hastily opened, and upon the threshold appeared Lestocq and Woronzow.
“Princess Elizabeth!” exclaimed Lestocq, with solemnity, “I have come for you. The throne awaits its empress!”
“Up, Princess Elizabeth,” said Alexis, “take courage, my fair empress, give us an example of spirit and resolution!”
The princess slowly raised her pale face from Razumovsky’s shoulder, and looking around with timid glances, faintly said: “I suffer fearfully! This anguish will kill me! My destiny is so cruel, I am so tormented. Why must I be an empress?”
“That you may be no nun,” laconically responded Lestocq.
“And to become the greatest and loftiest woman in the world!” said Woronzow.
“To raise to your own elevation the man you love,” whispered Alexis.
With a glance of tenderness, Elizabeth nodded to him.
“Yes,” said she, “for your sake, my Alexis, I will become an empress! Come, let us go. But where is Grunstein?”
“With his faithful followers he awaits us before the casern of his regiment. We go there first.”
“Then let us go!” said Elizabeth, striding forward. But she stopped on seeing that Alexis followed with the other two.
“No,” said she, “you must not go with us, Alexis. If I am to have courage to act and speak, I must know that you are not mingled in the strife—I must not have to tremble for your life! No, no, only when I know that you are concealed and in safety, can I have courage to struggle for an imperial crown. Promise me, therefore, Alexis, that you will quietly remain here until I send a messenger for you!”
Razumovsky begged and implored in vain—in vain he knelt before her, and covered her hands with tears and kisses.
Elizabeth remained inflexible, and, as Alexis yet persisted in his prayers, she earnestly and proudly said: “Alexis Razumovsky, I command you to remain here. You will obey the first command of your empress!”
“I will remain,” sighed Alexis, “and the world will point the finger of scorn at me, calling me a coward!”
“And I will compel the world to honor you as a king!” said Elizabeth, with tenderness, beckoning to Lestocq and Woronzow to follow her from the room.
Silently they hastened down the stairs—silently was Elizabeth handed into her sledge, while Lestocq and Woronzow took their places in the second.
“Forward!” thundered Lestocq’s powerful voice, and the train rushed through the dark and deserted streets.
St. Petersburg slept. No one appeared at the darkened windows of the silent palaces, no one boded that a new empress was passing through the streets,—an empress, who at this time had but two subjects in her train!
They had now reached the casern of the Peobrajensky regiment. There they halted. In the open door stands Grunstein with his thirty recruits.
They silently approached the sledge of the princess and prostrated themselves before her.
“Hail to our empress!” whispered Grunstein low, and as low was it repeated by the soldiers.
“Let us enter the casern, call the soldiers, and awaken the officers; I myself will address them!” said Elizabeth, alighting from her sledge. She was now full of courage and resolution. In the face of danger now no longer to be avoided, she had suddenly steeled her heart; her father’s spirit was awakened in her.
With a firm step she entered the casern; the conspirators had already raised an alarm there, and the suddenly aroused soldiers rushed from all the corridors, with wonder and admiration staring at this noble and beautiful woman who, radiant in the splendor of her beauty, and sparkling with jewels, stood in their midst.
“Soldiers,” cried Elizabeth, with a firm voice, “I come to implore your support in my attempt to obtain justice in the realm of my father! I am the daughter of the great Emperor Peter, the rightful heir to the throne of Russia, and I claim what is mine! I will no longer suffer a German princess to give laws to you, my beloved brethren and countrymen! Follow me, therefore, and let us drive away these foreign intruders who have usurped the throne of your lawful sovereign!”
“All hail, Elizabeth, our empress!” cried the conspirators, prostrating themselves.
Surprised, benumbed, and overpowered, the others made no opposition. Miserable slaves, they were accustomed to obey whoever dared assume the command over them,—and they therefore submitted. Falling upon their knees, they took the oath of allegiance to the new empress!
Elizabeth was now the empress of three hundred soldiers.
“Up, now, my friends, to the palace of the czar, where these usurpers dwell and inflict upon you the shame of calling a cradled infant your emperor. Come, and let us punish them for this insult, by thrusting them from their usurped power!”
“We will follow our empress in life and death!” cried the soldiers.
They therefore started again, and once more hastened through the silent streets until, at length, they reached the imperial palace, where dwelt the Emperor Ivan with his parents.
Elizabeth, with her confidential partisans in four sledges, had hastened on in advance of the others. With renewed courage they approached the principal entrance of the palace.
The guard took to their arms, and the drummer was preparing to beat an alarm, when a single blow of Lestocq’s fist broke through the skin of the drum.
The terrified drummer fell, and over his body passed the band of conspirators, Elizabeth at their head.
No one ventured to oppose them; the slaves fell upon their knees in homage to her who announced herself as their mistress and empress!
Thus meeting with universal submission and obedience, they approached the wing of the palace occupied by the Emperor Ivan and his mother the regent. Here is stationed an officer of the guard. He alone ventures defiance to the intruders. He meets them with his sword drawn, and swears to strike down the first person who attempts to enter the corridor.
“Unhappy man, what is it you dare!” said Lestocq, boldly advancing. “You are guilty of high-treason. Fall upon your knees and implore pardon of your empress, Elizabeth!”
The officer shrank bank in terror. It was an empress who stood before him, and he had dared to defy her!
Begging forgiveness and mercy, he dropped his sword and fell upon his knees. The Russian slave was awakened in him, and he bent before the one who had the power to command.
Unobstructed, retained by no one, Elizabeth and her followers now strode through the corridor leading to the private apartments of the regent. Sentinels were placed at every door, with strict commands to strike down any one who should dare to oppose them.
In this manner they reached the anteroom of the regent’s chamber.
Elizabeth had not the courage to go any farther. She hesitatingly stopped. A deep shame and repentance came over her when she thought of the noble confidence Anna had shown, and which she was now on the point of repaying with the blackest treason.
Lestocq, whose sharp, observing glances constantly rested upon her, divined her thoughts and the cause of her irresolution. He privately whispered some words to Grunstein, who, with thirty grenadiers, immediately approached the door of Anna’s sleeping-room.
With a single push the door was forced, and with a wild cry the soldiers rushed to the couch upon which Anna Leopoldowna was reposing.
With a cry of anguish Anna springs up from her slumber, and shudderingly stares at the soldiers by whom she is encompassed, who, with rough voices, command her to rise and follow them. They scarcely give her time to put on a robe, and encase her little feet in shoes.
But Anna has become perfectly calm and self-possessed. She knows she is lost, and, too proud to weep or complain, she finds in herself courage to be tranquil.
“I beg only to be allowed to speak to Elizabeth,” said she, aloud. “I will do all you command me. I will follow you wherever you wish, only let me first see your empress, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth, leaning against the door-post, had heard these words; yielding to an involuntary impulse of her heart, she pushed open the door and appeared upon the threshold of Anna Leopoldowna’s chamber.
On perceiving her, a faint smile passed over Anna’s features.
“Ah, come you thus to me, Elizabeth?” she said, reproachfully, with a proud glance at the princess.
Elizabeth could not support that glance. She cast down her eyes, and again Anna Leopoldowna smiled. She was conquered, but before her, blushing with shame, stood her momentarily subdued conqueror. But Anna now remembered her son, and, folding her hands, she said, in an imploring tone:
“Elizabeth, kill not my son! Have compassion upon him!”
Elizabeth turned away with a shudder, she felt her heart rent, she had not strength for an answer.
Lestocq beckoned the soldiers, and commanded them to remove the traitress, Anna Leopoldowna.
Thirty warriors took possession of the regent, who calmly and proudly submitted herself to them and suffered herself to be led away.
In the corridor they encountered another troop of soldiers, who were escorting the regent’s husband, Prince Ulrich of Brunswick, and Anna’s favorite, Julia von Mengden.
“Anna!” sorrowfully exclaimed the prince, “oh, had you but listened to my warning! Why did I not, in spite of your commands, what I ought to have done? I alone am to blame for this sad misfortune.”
“It is no one’s fault but mine,” calmly responded Anna. “Pardon me, my husband, pardon me, Julia.”
And so they descended to the sledges in waiting below. They placed the prince in one, and the regent, with Julia, in the other.
“Ah,” said Julia, throwing her arms around Anna’s neck, “we shall at least suffer together.”
Anna reclined her head upon her friend’s shoulder.
“God is just and good,” said she. “He punishes me for my criminal love, and mercifully spares the object of my affections. I thank God for my sufferings. Julia, should you one day be liberated and allowed to see him again, then bear to him my warmest greetings; then tell him that I shall love him eternally, and that my last sigh shall be a prayer for his happiness. I shall never see him again. Bear to him my blessing, Julia!”
Julia dissolved in tears, and, clinging to her friend, she sobbed: “No, no, they will not dare to kill you.”
“Then they will condemn me to a life-long imprisonment,” calmly responded Anna.
“No, no, your head is sacred, and so is your freedom. They dare not attack either.”
“Nothing is sacred in Russia,” laconically responded Anna.
The sledges stopped at the palace of the Princess Elizabeth. Hardly two hours had passed since Elizabeth, in those same sledges, had left her palace as a poor, trembling princess; and now, as reigning empress, she sent them back to the dethroned regent.
The latter entered the palace of the princess as a prisoner, while Elizabeth, as empress, took possession of the palace of the czars.
Anna Leopoldowna had hardly left the room in which she had been surprised and captured, when Lestocq turned to Grunstein with a new order.
“Now,” said he, in an undertone to him—“now hasten to seize the emperor. This little Ivan must be annihilated.”
Elizabeth had overheard these words, and remembering Anna’s last prayer, she exclaimed with vehemence:
“No, no, I say, he shall not be annihilated! Woe to him who injures a hair of his head! I will not be the murderer of an innocent child! Take him prisoner, get him in your power, but in him respect the child and the emperor! Tear him not forcibly from his slumber, but protect his sleep! Poor child, destined to suffer so early!”
“No weakness now, princess,” whispered Lestocq; “show yourself great and firm, else all is lost! Come away from here, that the sight of this child may not yet more enfeeble your heart. Come, much more remains to be done.”
And, reverently taking Elizabeth’s hand, he led her to the door.
“Now do your duty,” said he to Grunstein. “Seize young Ivan.”
“But remember my command, and spare him,” said Elizabeth, slowly and hesitatingly leaving the chamber.
“Now to Ivan!” Grunstein commanded his soldiers, and with them he hastened to the sleeping-room of the young emperor.
There deep stillness and undisturbed peace yet prevailed. Only the waiting-women were awakened, and had hastily fled in search of concealment and safety. They had left the young emperor entirely alone, and he had not been awakened by the disturbance all around him.
He lay quietly in his splendid cradle, which was placed upon a sort of estrade in the centre of the room, dimly lighted by a lamp suspended from the ceiling by golden chains. This slumbering, smiling, childish face, peeping forth from the green silk coverings of the pillows, resembled a fresh, bursting rosebud. It was a sight that inspired respect even in those rough soldiers.
Devoutly staring, they at first remained at the door of the room; then slowly, and stepping on the points of their toes, they approached nearer and surrounded the cradle. But, remembering the words of their new empress, “Spare his sleep,” no one dared to touch the child, or awaken him from his slumber.
In close order the bearded warriors pressed around the cradle of the imperial child, leaning upon their halberds, watching for his awaking.
It was a rare and admirable picture. In the centre, upon its estrade, was the splendid cradle of the slumbering child, and all around, upon the steps of this child-throne, these soldiers with their wild and threatening faces, all eyes expectantly resting upon the smiling infantile brow.
The door now opened, and, her face pallid with terror, Ivan’s nurse rushed into the room and to the cradle of her imperial nursling. The soldiers, with imperious glances, beckoned her to await in silence, like themselves, the awakening of the emperor. The poor woman spoke not, but her fast-flowing tears indicated the depth of her grief.
Time passes. As if under enchantment, earnest, immovable, silent, stand the soldiers. Behind the cradle, her eyes and arms raised imploringly toward heaven, stands the nurse, while the child continues to slumber, smiling in its sleep.
At the expiration of an hour thus passed, the imperial infant moves, throws up its little rosy arms, opens its eyes—it is awake!
A cry of triumph escapes the lips of all the soldiers—all arms were stretched forth to seize him who, an hour before, had been their lord and emperor.
The child, frightened by the aspect of these rough soldiers, bursts out into a cry of alarm, and stretches out its little arms toward its nurse.
She takes him in her arms and weeps over him. The frightened child buries its little face in the bosom of his nurse, and the soldiers now convey them both to the waiting sledges. The dethroned emperor is quickly transported to the dethroned regent at Elizabeth’s palace, who, with hot tears, clasps her son to her heart.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth had made herself absolute mistress of the imperial palace. Hastening to the throne-room, she had taken possession of the throne of her father, and administered the oath of allegiance to the guards surrounding her.
They lay upon their knees before her, these cowardly instruments of despotism; they bowed their heads in the dust, and these four or five thousand slaves, to which number the followers of the empress already amounted, swore fealty to Elizabeth, ready to strangle the regent and the young emperor at her command, or to serve her the same if, peradventure, the regent should regain a momentary power.
While the guards were doing homage in the palace, Grunstein and Woronzow, by Lestocq’s command, led their men to Munnich’s and Ostermann’s, and both were imprisoned; with them, a great number of leading and suspected persons, who, perhaps, might have been disposed to draw the sword for Anna Leopoldowna. Lestocq had thought of every thing, had considered every thing; at the same time that he entered the regent’s palace with Elizabeth, he sent to the printer the manifesto which proclaimed Elizabeth as empress. With the appearance of the sun in the horizon, Elizabeth was recognized as empress in the capital, and soon after throughout the whole empire. Who were they who recognized her? It was not the people, for in Russia there are no people—there are only masters and slaves. Elizabeth had become empress because fortune and Anna Leopoldowna’s generous confidence had favored her; not the exigencies of the people, nor the tyranny of her predecessor had called her to the throne, but she had attained to it by the cunning and intrigues of some few confederates. She had become empress because Lestocq was tired of being only physician to a poor princess; because Grunstein thought the position of under-officer was far too humble for him, and because Alexis Razumovsky, the former precentor in the imperial chapel, found it desirable to add to his name the title of count or prince!
When St. Petersburg awoke it heard with astonishment the news of a new revolution. From mouth to mouth flew this astounding announcement: “We have changed our rulers! We are no longer the servants of the Emperor Ivan, but of the Empress Elizabeth! A new dynasty has arisen, and we have a new oath of allegiance to take!”
At first only a few ventured to spread this extraordinary intelligence, and these few were tremblingly and anxiously avoided; it was dangerous to listen to them; people fled from them without answering. But as the rumors became constantly louder and more significant, as at length their truth could no longer be doubted, as it became certain that the regent and her son were dethroned and Elizabeth was established in power, all the doubting and anxious faces were, as by an electric spark, lighted up with joy; then nothing was heard but the cry of triumph and jubilation; then was Anna Leopoldowna loudly cursed by those who had blessed her on the preceding day; then was the new Empress Elizabeth loudly lauded by those who yesterday had smiled with contempt at her powerlessness.
All again hastened to the imperial palace; the great and the noble again brought out their state coaches for the purpose of throwing themselves at the feet of the new possessor of power and swearing a new allegiance; again nothing was heard but the sound of universal rejoicing, nothing seen but faces lighted up by ecstasy and eyes glistening with tears of joy. And this was, in fourteen months, the third time that they had done homage to a new ruler who had as regularly dethroned his predecessor, and they had each time gone through the same ceremony with the same evidences of joy, the same ecstasies, the same slavish humility, not commiserating the defeated party, but professing love and devotion to the victor!
And as the day dawned on St. Petersburg, as it gloriously beamed upon the young empress, as she saw these thousands of worshipping slaves at her feet, Elizabeth’s heart swelled with a proud joy, and looking down upon the masses of humble and devoted subjects, whose mistress she was, she felt herself momentarily overcome by a deep and holy emotion.
“I will be a mother to this people,” thought she; “I will love and spare them; I will govern them with mildness; they shall not curse, but adore me!”
Yielding to this first generous impulse of her heart, Elizabeth rose from the throne, and with uplifted hands loudly and solemnly swore that she would be a mother to her subjects—a mother who, when compelled to punish, would never forget love and forbearance!
“No one, however great his crime,” said she, with flashing eyes—“no one shall be punished with death so long as I sit upon this throne! From this day the punishment of death is abolished in my realm! I will punish crime, but I will spare the life of the criminal!”
When Elizabeth had thus spoken, the large hall again resounded with the rejoicing shouts of the great and noble—men breathed freer and deeper, they raised their heads more proudly; for centuries the all-powerful word of the czars had swept over the heads of Russians like the sword of Damocles—it now seemed to be removed, and to promise to each one a longer life, a longer unendangered existence. For where was there a subject of the czars who might not at any time be convicted of a crime—where an innocent person who might not at any moment be condemned to death? A glance, a smile, an inconsiderate word, had often sufficed to cause a head to fall! And now this eternally present danger seemed to be removed! What wonder, then, that they raised shouts of joy, that they embraced each other, that they loudly and solemnly called down the blessings of Heaven upon this noble and merciful empress!
During this time of general rejoicing among the great and noble of the realm in the brilliant imperial halls above, the palace was surrounded by dense masses of people looking up with curiosity at the bright windows, and listening with astonishment to the joyful shouts that reached their ears below. And when they heard the cause of the rejoicing above, they shrugged their shoulders and murmured low: “The empress will henceforth punish no one with death! What is that to us? That the great shall no more be put to death by the empress, is no concern of ours, the serfs of the great! The empress is powerful, but our lords and masters have yet more power over us. They will still scourge us to death, and the empress cannot hinder them!”
That a word of authority from the czarina had abolished the punishment of death, did not stir them up from their dull, expectant silence; but when a messenger from the empress came and announced that Elizabeth had ordered a flask of brandy to be given to each one of the crowd assembled below, that they might drink her health, then came life and movement to these stupid masses, then their dull faces were distorted into a friendly grin, then they screamed and howled with a brutish ecstasy, and they all rushed to the opened door to avail themselves of the promised benevolence of the empress and receive the divine liquor!
For the great, the abolition of capital punishment—for the people, a flask of brandy—these were the first rays that announced the appearance of the newly-rising sun Elizabeth in the horizon of her realm!
No,—Elizabeth did yet more!—in this hour she remembered with a grateful heart the faithful friends who had assisted her to the throne; to reward these was her next and most sacred duty!
A nod from her called to her presence the thirty grenadiers of the Preobrajensky regiment whom Grunstein had won over, and the empress with a gracious smile gave them her hand to kiss.
Then, rising from her throne, and glancing at the assembled magnates and princes, she said, in a clear and flattering tone: “It is service that ennobles, it is fidelity that lends fame and splendor. And service and fidelity have you rendered and shown to me, my faithful grenadiers! I will reward you as you deserve. From this hour you are free; nay, more, you are magnates of my realm; you belong, with the best of right, to their circle, for, in virtue of my imperial power, I raise you to the nobility by creating you barons, all of you, my thirty faithful grenadiers, and you, Grunstein, the leader of this faithful band! Receive them into your ranks, my counts and barons, they are worthy of you!”
Hesitating, not daring to mingle with those proud magnates, stood the new barons; but the princes and counts advanced to them with open arms, with exclamations of tenderness and assurances of friendship. The empress had spoken, the slaves must obey; and these princes and counts, these generals and field-marshals, who yesterday would hardly have thrown away a contemptuous glance upon these grenadiers, now called them friends and brothers, and were most happy to admit them into their circle.
Elizabeth gave a satisfied glance at these hearty greetings: she found it infinitely sweet and agreeable to make so many men happy in so easy a manner, and with pleasure she recollected that she had yet to reward her coachman who had guided her sledge in the great and decisive hour.
She ordered him to be called. A considerable time elapsed, and all were looking expectantly toward the door, which finally opened, and, led by four lackeys, the coachman stumbled into the hall. They had had some trouble in finding him, until at length he was discovered among the people in the court-yard, enjoying the brandy distributed by order of the empress. From this crowd they had withdrawn him in spite of his resistance, in order to bring him to his sovereign.
She received the staggering Petrovitch with a gracious smile, she praised the dauntlessness with which he had guided her sledge in that eventful night, and in gratitude for his good conduct she raised him, as she had the grenadiers, to the rank of a nobleman by naming him a baron of the Russian empire.
Petrovitch listened to her with a stupid laugh; and when the magnates crowded around him, offering their hands and assuring him of their friendship, he tremblingly and with effort stammered some unmeaning words, and falling upon his knees, he bowed his head in the dust before these great and powerful magnates, humbly kissing the hems of their garments, not suspecting that he was their equal in rank.
And constantly more brilliant and beautiful beamed the imperial grace. None of Elizabeth’s faithful friends and servants were forgotten, for she possessed a virtue rare among princes—she was grateful.
She named Lestocq her first physician, president of the medical college, and member of her privy council. She made Grunstein an imperial aide-de-camp, with the rank of brigadier-general; and Woronzow a count and her first chamberlain.
Then, at last, she repeated the name of her friend Alexis Razumovsky. Her fair brow lighted up as with a reflected sunbeam on his approaching her throne, and, holding out to him both hands, she said aloud: “Alexis Razumovsky, I have you most to thank for my success in dispossessing the usurpers who have robbed me of my father’s throne; for your wise counsels gave me courage and force: be then, henceforth, next to my throne, my chamberlain, Count Razumovsky!”
Bending a knee before her, Alexis gratefully kissed her beloved hand, and the counts and gentlemen surrounded him, loudly praising the great wisdom of the empress, whose divine penetration enabled her everywhere to discover and reward true service!
“Ah,” sighed Elizabeth, when, on the evening of this glorious day, she was again alone with her confidential friends, “ah, my friends, I have now complied with your wishes and allowed you to make an empress of me! But forget not, Lestocq, that I have become empress only on condition that I am not to be troubled with business and state affairs. This has been a day of great exertion and fatigue, and I hope you will henceforth leave me in repose. I have done what you wished, I am empress, and have rewarded you for your aid, but now I also demand my reward, and that is undisturbed peace! Once for all, in my private apartments no one is to speak of state affairs, here I will have repose; you can carry on the government through your bureaux and chancelleries; I will have nothing to do with it! Here we will be gay and enjoy life. Come here, my Alexis,—come here and tell me if this imperial crown is becoming, and whether you found me fair in my ermine-trimmed purple mantle?”
“My lofty empress is always the fairest of women,” tenderly responded Alexis.
“Call me not empress,” said she, drawing him closer to her. “That brings again to mind all the hardships and wearinesses I have this day encountered.”
“Only yet a moment, your majesty; let me remind you that you are now empress, and, as such, have duties to perform!” pressingly exclaimed Lestocq. “You have this day exercised the pleasantest right of your imperial power—the right of rewarding and making happy. But there remains another and not less important duty; your majesty must now think of punishing. The regent, and her husband and son, are prisoners; as, also are Munnich, Ostermann, Count Lowenwald, and Julia von Mengden. You must think of judging and punishing them.”
Elizabeth had paid no attention to him. She was whispering and laughing with Alexis, who had let down her long dark hair, and was now playfully twining it around her white neck.
“Ah, you have not listened to me, your majesty,” impatiently cried Lestocq. “You must, however, for a few moments remember your dignity, and direct what is to be done with the imprisoned traitors.”
“Only see, Alexis, how this new lord privy counsellor teases me,” sighed the princess, and, turning to Lestocq, she continued: “I think you should understand the laws better than I, and should know how traitors are punished.”
“In all countries high-treason is punished with death,” said Lestocq, gloomily.
“Well, let these traitors fare according to the common usage, and kill them,” responded Elizabeth, comfortably extending herself upon the divan.
“But your majesty has this day abolished the punishment of death.”
“Have I so? Ah, yes, I now remember. Well, as I have said it, I must keep my word.”
“And the regent, Prince Ulrich, the so-called Emperor Ivan, Counts Ostermann, Munnich, Lowenwald, as well as Julia von Mengden, and the other prisoners, are all to remain unpunished?”
“Can they be punished in no other way than by death?” impatiently asked Elizabeth. “Have we not prisons and the knout? Have we not Siberia and the rack? Punish these traitors, then, as you think best. I give you full powers, and, if it must be so, will even take the trouble to affix my signature to your sentence.”
“But we cannot scourge the regent or her son?”
“No,” said Elizabeth, with vehemence, “these you must permit to go free and without hindrance to Germany; your judicial powers will not extend to them. It shall not be said that Elizabeth has delivered up her aunt and cousin to torture for the purpose of securing her own advantage. Let them go hence free and unobstructed! I tell you this is my express, imperial will!”
And Elizabeth, exhausted by so great an effort, leaned her head upon the shoulder of Alexis, mechanically playing with his locks.
“And Munnich and Ostermann?” asked Lestocq.
“Mon Dieu! will, then, this annoyance never cease?” impatiently exclaimed the empress. “What are Munnich and Ostermann to me? I know them not; they have never injured and are wholly indifferent to me. Do with them as you and your colleagues think best, I shall not trouble myself about it. Judge, condemn, punish them, it is all one to me—only their lives must be spared, as I have promised that no one shall be punished with death.”
“I may, then, announce to the council that you will confirm their sentence?”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” cried Elizabeth, springing up. “Scourge, banish them, do what you please, but leave me in peace! Come, my Alexis, this good Lestocq is insufferable to-day; he will annoy us to death if we remain any longer here! Come, we will escape from him and his serious face! Oh, we have much more serious subjects of conversation. To-morrow is my grand gala dinner, and we have my toilet to examine, to be certain that every thing is in the proper order. And then the ball toilet for the evening, which is far more important. I shall open the ball with a Polonnaise. You promised me, Alexis, to practice with me the new tour which the Marquis de la Chetardie describes as the latest Parisian mode. Come, let us essay this tour. For a new empress, at her first court ball, there is nothing more important than that she should perform her duty as leader of the dance with propriety and grace. Quick, therefore, to the work! Give me your hand—and now, Alexis, let us commence. Sing a melody to it, and then it will go better.”
Alexis began to sing a Polonnaise, and, taking the hand of the empress, they commenced the practice of the new Polonnaise tour.
“So, that is right,” said he, interrupting his singing, “that is very fine. Now let go my hand and turn proudly and majestically around. Beautifully done! Now a half turn sideward. One, two, three—la, la, la, tra la!”
“Yet one more question,” interposed Lestocq; “may the council of state sit in judgment upon Lowenwald and de Mengden, and will you confirm their decision?”
“One, two, three—tra, la, la!” sang Alexis, and the empress whirled and made her graceful turn, as he had taught her.
Lestocq repeated his question to the empress.
Elizabeth was precisely in the most difficult tour.
“Yes, yes,” she breathlessly cried, “I deliver them all over to you; scourge them, punish them, send them to Siberia—whatever you think best! Halt, Alexis, we must try this tour over again. But, indeed, I think I shall acquit myself very well in it.”
“Heavenly!” cried Alexis. “Once more, then! One, two, three—la, la, la, tra la!”