“The sole descendant of this union is a grand-daughter, now in her twenty-third year, and said to be of surpassing grace and loveliness. Till lately she has been living at Moscow, carefully concealing the secret of her romantic origin; but, through no act of her own, the story, by some means or other, has transpired.
“The Czar Paul is said to be convinced by documentary evidence of her legitimacy and Imperial lineage, a matter to him of grave import, since, as there is no Salic law in Russia, if the rule of primogeniture be followed, this grand-daughter of Ivan VI., as the eldest surviving representative of the House of Romanoff, should now be wearing the diadem of the Czars.
“With a view of keeping a watch over her, Paul some months ago removed her from Moscow to his Court at St. Petersburg, conferring upon her the title of Grand Duchess, and placing her among the ladies in immediate attendance upon the Czarina. Assuming that this story is true, he would be a bold prophet who, in view of the gloomy and suspicious nature of Paul, would venture to predict length of days to a lady so dangerous politically to him and his heirs.”
The paper fluttered from Wilfrid’s hands. He had no desire to read anything more that day. The political and military affairs of the Continent sank into insignificance beside this startling paragraph. The English readers of The Times might regard the story as a romantic fabrication; Wilfrid had reasons for believing otherwise.
The newspaper paragraph had closed with a sinister prediction, a prediction that had sent a thrill of fear to his mind. The only way of preventing its fulfilment was the removal of the duchess from Russia; but how could he, single-handed, effect the escape of a lady watched day and night as she undoubtedly must be?
“Matters are growing interesting,” he muttered. “A grand-daughter of a Czar! Lineal heiress to the throne! So that is why the lady must have no suitors; she must be prevented from transmitting her rights. And Ouvaroff and I, and all would-be lovers are to be ‘warned off.’ Well, for my part, I decline to take the warning. Having more than a liking for the lady, I intend to carry on my suit; for, if her eyes said anything the other night, they said love.”
A few questions to his host elicited the fact that the Czarina Mary, the Czarovna Elizavetta, the Grand Duchesses, and the ladies of the Imperial Household, were accustomed to take a drive every afternoon at two o’clock along the Nevski Prospekt.
Thinking that his grand duchess—the Times correspondent had, unfortunately, forgotten to name her—might form one of this party, Wilfrid resolved to take his stand near the entrance of the Michaelhof, in the hope of obtaining a fleeting glimpse of her.
Aware that in St. Petersburg a man in civilian attire is deemed of little account, Wilfrid resolved to don the uniform of a certain Austrian regiment in which he held the honorary rank of colonel, a reward conferred upon him by the Viennese Court for his bravery at the battle of the Devil’s Bridge, where he had fought side by side with Russians, as well as with Austrians.