“She won’t consent, old fellow; she says, ‘I’ll consent only when I’m in my proper place.’”
“How so? Excuse me, I don’t understand. What proper place?”
“Oh! well, cannot you understand?… When she will be in Russia, at home,—well, when the empress will condescend to recognise her rights.”
“But is there any hope of that?”
Orloff became thoughtful.
“Well, I think,” said he, “that it might be possible; I hope her friends will not spoil everything. They follow her so closely here, all those Poles, those Jesuits of all kinds. Who knows? They may poison us. They may shoot us; or give us a stab at the corner of the street with a hired Kinjal.[34] All they desire is a person for their disturbances.”
The count seemed very much agitated. His frank, open and intelligent countenance seemed troubled. The passion of his heart, working as it were against his will, could be heard in his trembling voice, in each of his words.
The day ended. The count did not leave his visitor for a minute.
“Here’s bad luck! she won’t listen. Really I don’t know what to do,” said he, one day, having summoned me. “If I could find some one to help me, … some one who could persuade her.…”
“Persuade her to what?” I asked.