“Oh, yes,” said one of these men, with a low bow, “we have seen you!”
“And did we not yesterday hear you sing this same charming slumber-song, princess?” asked the other.
Elizabeth smiled. “It is already well known that Woronzow and Grunstein must always flatter!” said she.
“No, we do not flatter,” responded Woronzow, the chamberlain of the princess, “we only love truth! You ask if we have ever seen any thing more beautiful than your private secretary, and we answer that we have seen you!”
“Well, now, you have all so often assured me that I am the handsomest woman in Russia, that at length I am compelled to believe you. But Alexis is fortunately a man, and therefore not my rival; you may, then, fearlessly confess that Alexis is the handsomest of all men! But how is this?” exclaimed the princess, interrupting herself, as the handsome young singer suddenly sprang up and threw his guitar aside with an indignant movement; “do you sing no more, Alexis?”
“No,” frowardly responded the young man, “I sing no more, when my princess no longer listens!”
“There, see the ungrateful man,” said the princess, with a charming smile—“he was occupying all my thoughts, and yet he dares complain! You are a malefactor deserving punishment. Come here to me, Alexis; kneel, kiss my hand, and beg for pardon, you calumniator!”
“That is a punishment for which angels might be grateful!” responded Alexis Razumovsky, kneeling to the princess and pressing her hand to his burning lips. “Ah, that I might oftener incur such punishment!”
“Do you then prefer punishment to reward?” asked Elizabeth, tenderly bending down to him and looking deep into his eyes.
“She loves him!” whispered Grunstein to the chamberlain Woronzow. “She certainly loves him!”
Elizabeth’s fine ear caught these words, and, slowly turning her head, she slightly nodded. “Yes,” said she, “Grunstein is right—she loves him! Congratulate me, therefore, my friends, that the desert void in my heart is at length filled—congratulate me for loving him. Ah, nothing is sweeter, holier, or more precious than love; and I can tell you that we women are happy only when we are under the influence of that divine passion. Congratulate me, then, my friends, for, thank God, I am in love! Now, Alexis, what have you to say?”
“There are no words to express such a happiness,” cried Alexis, pressing the feet of the princess to his bosom.
“Happiness, then, strikes you dumb,” laughed the princess, “and will not allow you to say that you love me? Such are all you men. You envelope yourselves with a convenient silence, and would make us poor women believe the superabundance of feeling deprives you of utterance.”
At this moment the door was softly opened, and a lackey, who made his appearance at the threshold, beckoned to Woronzow.
“What is it, Woronzow?” asked the princess, while, wholly unembarrassed by the presence of the lackey, she played with the profuse dark locks of the kneeling Razumovsky.
“An invitation from the Regent Anna to a court-ball, which is to take place fourteen days hence,” said Woronzow.
“Ah, our good cousin is, then, so gracious as to remember us,” cried the princess, with a somewhat clouded brow. “It will certainly be a very magnificent festival, as we are invited so many days in advance. How sad that I cannot have the pleasure of being present!”
“And why not, if one may be allowed to ask, princess?” asked Woronzow.
“Why?” sighed Elizabeth. “Ask my waiting-woman; she will tell you that the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of the great Czar Peter, has not one single robe splendid enough to render her presentable, without mortification, at a court-ball of the regent.”
“Whatever robe you may wear,” passionately interposed Alexis, “you will still be resplendent, for your beauty will impart a divine halo to any dress!”
That was precisely the kind of flattery pleasing to Elizabeth.
“Think you so, flatterer?” asked Elizabeth. “Well, for once I will believe your words, and assume that the Princess Elizabeth may be fair without the aid of splendor in dress. We therefore accept the invitation, Woronzow. Announce that to the regent’s messenger. But still it is sad and humiliating,” continued Elizabeth after a pause, a cloud passing over her usually so cheerful countenance, “yes it is still a melancholy circumstance for the daughter of the great Peter to be so poor that she is not able to dress herself suitably to her rank. Ah, how humiliating is the elevation of my high position, when I cannot even properly reward you, my friends, for your fidelity and attachment!”
“You will one day be able to reward us,” significantly remarked Grunstein. “One day, when an imperial crown surmounts your fair brows, then will your generous heart be able to act according to its noble instincts.”
“Still the same old dreams!” said Elizabeth, shaking her head and letting Razumovsky’s long locks glide through her fingers. “Pay no attention to him, Alexis, he is an enthusiast who dreams of imperial crowns, while I desire nothing but a ball-dress, that in it I may please you, my friend!”
“Oh, you always please me,” whispered Alexis, “and most pleasing are you when—”
The conclusion of his flattering speech he whispered so low that it was heard by no one but the princess.
Patting his cheek with her little round hand, she blushed, but not for shame, as she did not cast down her eyes, but answered with a glowing glance the tender looks of her lover. She blushed only from an internal passionate excitement, while her bosom stormily rose and fell.
“You are very saucy, Alexis,” said she, but at the same time lightly kissing him upon the forehead, and smiling; but then her brow was suddenly clouded, for the door was again opened and once more the lackey appeared upon the threshold.
“The French ambassador,” said he, “the Marquis de la Chetardie, begs the favor of an audience.”
“Ah, the good marquis!” cried the princess, rising from her reclining position. “Conduct him in, he is very welcome.”
The lackey opened both wings of the folding-door, and the marquis entered, followed by several servants with boxes and packets.
“Ah, you come very much like a milliner,” laughingly exclaimed Elizabeth, graciously advancing to receive the ambassador.
Dropping upon one knee, the marquis kissed her offered hand.
“I come, illustrious Princess Elizabeth, to beg a favor of you!” he said.
“You wish to mortify me,” responded Elizabeth. “How can the ambassador of a great and powerful nation have a favor to ask of the poor, repudiated, and forgotten Princess Elizabeth?”
“In the name of the king my master come I to demand this favor!” solemnly answered the marquis.
“Well, if you really speak in earnest,” said the princess, “then I have only to respond that it will make me very happy to comply with any request which your august king or yourself may have to make of me.”
“Then I may be allowed, on this occasion of the celebration of your name-day, to lay at your feet these trifling presents of my royal master,” said the ambassador of France, rising to take the boxes and packages from the lackeys and place them before Elizabeth.
“They are only trifles,” continued he, while assiduously occupied in opening the boxes, “trifles of little value—only interesting, perhaps, because they are novelties that have as yet been worn in Paris by no lady except the queen and madame!
“This mantelet of Valenciennes lace,” continued the busy marquis, unfolding before