“In the name of the empress, you are arrested,” answered the captain.
“Violence! force!” screamed the Princess. “Help,—here,—to me!”
She rushed to the trap, forcing her way with her feeble hands through the ranks of armed men. The sailors, sunburnt and sullen, looked at her in astonishment. Litvenoff stopped her.
“Impossible!” said he. “Be calm.”
“Perfidy! Malediction!” madly cried she. “How dare you—with a woman—with a Russian Princess. Do you hear? Let me pass,” she cried to the soldiers in French. “Where is Count Orloff? Call him here. Bring him here. You shall answer for all this!”
“The count, by order of the empress and admiral, is also arrested,” answered Litvenoff, respectfully bowing. “He is arrested just as you are!”
The Princess gave a loud scream, and drew back.
Her reproachful glance fell upon me. It seemed to pierce my heart like a dagger, as though saying, “It is your fault. You have ruined me.”
She staggered back a few steps, and then fainted away.
The sailors carried her into the cabin. All the servants, except her maid, who remained with her, had been arrested, and under a strong escort had been transferred to another ship.