“Excuse me, Your Grace,” said I to the count; “to-morrow I start for Rome. You have confided to me a mission of the highest importance. In case the Princess should agree to your conditions, and should accept your invitation, what will be the result of it all, if I may presume to ask you?”
“Oh! what a fireship![30] what a leech!” said Alexis Gregorevitch, with a curl of his lip. “Yes, and you sailors are all like that. Take out everything, and spread it on the table. But we diplomâts do not care for useless prattle. Live, and then you’ll know. This affair will show itself. But I am the true and faithful servant of our Empress Ekaterina Alexéevna.”
“Be generous, and forgive me, count,” said I. “You have confided to me, not a naval mission, but a diplomatic one. It has never happened to me before, and therefore I am very doubtful.… And should this person assert her rights?”
“Well, that’s just what I’m thinking about. It might easily be that she is a branch of the Imperial family. In her veins flows perhaps the blood of our mother Elizabeth. We must be ready for anything. Do all you can, Konsov; your services shall not be forgotten. But don’t forget one thing. You must help the Princess with money, as she is a woman. You must take her out of her humiliating position.… Who knows? perhaps to her Imperial Majesty it will not be disagreeable. Our reigning sovereign has a heart. Oh! sometimes it is a stone.… Who knows? perhaps in time it may be softer.”
The count astonished me more than ever.
“Well,” thought I to myself, “what an honour for me to have won the confidence of such an exalted personage! All is clear now. The count is no traitor. Although his ambition, perhaps, led him to murmur, still.—The favour of the Orloffs is fallen, and it’s evident the count wishes to persuade the Princess to give up her rights.”
The whole plan, explained to me by the count, became quite clear. Having prepared everything for my journey, I took my departure, with the most faithful resolution to fulfil the mission which had been confided to me.
It was in the month of February, 1775, not so very long ago for me to have suffered and experienced so much. Having reached Rome, I made inquiries about the emissary of the count who had reached Rome before me. He was a lieutenant of our own squadron, and, as some said, a Greek. To me it seemed more likely that he, Ivan Moisaevitch Christianok by name, was half German and half Jew. I handed over to him the papers that had been confided to my care, and began questioning him about our mutual mission. As black as a beetle, small of stature, restless—in fact, a most repulsive man—Christianok smiled continually, spoke always in a most insinuating voice, and seemed, with his shifting glance, to dive at once into one’s soul and one’s pocket.
I learnt from Christianok that the Princess had taken a few rooms in Rome, on the first floor of the house of Juani, on the Champs de Mars. She lived there in the greatest retirement and in great want. She paid for her apartment fifty sequins a month, and kept only three servants. She only went out to go to church, and, excepting one friend, a Jesuit abbé, and the doctor who attended her, she saw no one. The emissary of the count, Christianok, disguised as a beggar, lounged about the house of Juani for more than a fortnight, trying in vain to get a glimpse of its fair inhabitant. But he was mistrusted by every one, and, notwithstanding all his efforts, his entreaties to the servants, no one would let him in. He took me to the Champs de Mars.
The house of Juani was very solitary; it was built quite apart, between a yard and a not very large but very shady garden. I went up to the door and raised the knocker. First I saw at the window, which was framed in creeping vines, the maid of the Princess, daughter of a Prussian captain, Francis Mecèdès, and after her the secretary of the Princess, whom I had seen at Ragusa, Charnomski.