Among the combatants there was one at least who retained an undaunted mien, namely, Katina. She advanced towards the choir, wiping her reddened blade upon the silken standard, which during the fray had become detached from the staff.
At the edge of the choir Katina knelt.
"Seek not pardon of me," exclaimed the Czar loftily, mistaking her purpose. "You who commenced the fray, you who have slain one of my own subjects!"
"The stars shall fall from heaven ere Katina Ludovska craves pardon of Nicholas Paulovitch," scornfully replied the Polish maiden, ever mindful of the fact that the warrant condemning her to receive the knout was signed with this same name, Nicholas Paulovitch. "Your Highness," she continued, still on her knees, and addressing Barbara, "if through zeal I have wrought amiss in slaying one who traduced the fair name of my princess, of you alone I crave pardon."
"If the name of him whom you have slain be Feodor Orloff," said Barbara, "then have you done a good deed, and you need ask pardon of none."
A Russian governor slain in the very presence of the Czar, and the princess justifying the deed! Barbara's ministers sat completely dumfounded by her boldness. There were two sovereigns in the choir, each contending for the mastery; which would prevail?
Turning to the emperor with an air of dignity and self-possession, Barbara said,—
"Let the Czar explain by what right he has set free a traitor imprisoned by my authority."
Such language as this was new to the autocrat, who is credited with the saying, "Let there be no will in Russia but that of the Czar." He glanced with surprise, not unmixed with admiration, at the young girl who faced him so spiritedly.
"What gives you such boldness in the presence of the Czar?"