Not a word had yet been spoken, but this fearful silence affrighted her more than a tempest of angry words would have done.
At last Potemkin stood directly before her, and spoke. "If Potemkin is obnoxious to you, speak the word, and I annihilate him."
"Oh!" screamed Catharine, "he knows all."
"Yes, I know all—I heard Orloff offer to be my executioner. Pray, why did you not accept the offer at once?"
He had come so near, that Catharine felt his hot breath upon her brow, like the blast from a furnace.
"I ask you again," said he, stamping his foot with fury, "why do you not let the axe of your executioner fall upon my neck? Answer me!"
Catharine was speechless with fright, and Potemkin, exasperated at her silence, raised his clinched hand, and looked so fierce, that the czarina fell backward almost upon her knees, murmuring—"Potemkin, would you kill me!"
"And if I did," cried he, grinding his teeth, "would death not be the just punishment of your treachery? Your treachery to me, who have given you my heart, my soul, my life, while you betray and accuse me, not face to face, as would an honorable woman, but behind my back as becomes a coward and a hypocrite! Look at me, and answer my question, I command you!"
Again he raised his hand, and his deep voice rolled like angry thunder in her ear. Catharine, against her will, obeyed his voice, and raised her eyes to his. She saw his lofty brow, like that of an angry demi-god, his dark, dangerous, fiery eyes, his glistening teeth, his magnificent frame, lithe, athletic, and graceful as that of "The statue that enchants the world," and a sensation of shuddering ecstasy flooded her whole being. Forgotten were her fears, her terror, her dream of vengeance; and, regardless of the hand which was still raised to threaten her, she cried out, in tones of mingled love and anguish:
"Oh, Alexandrowitsch, how preter-human is your beauty! You stand, like an avenging god, before me; and I—I can only worship and tremble!"