"No, let me lie here as the sinner lies before the altar of the Most High! I am a traitor—but despair has made me criminal. As I stood behind the tapestry, and heard how my empress accused me, I felt that the spectral hand of madness was hovering above my brain. Oh, Catharine, it is you whom I adore, you who have made of me a lunatic!"
Again he buried his face in Catharine's robes, and wept. She, perfectly disarmed, leaned over him, caressing him with her hands, and imploring him to be comforted.
"Let me lie here and weep," continued her Alexandrowitsch, "not for me, but for my Catharine—the star of my life! She, whom my enemies would deceive; that deceiving they might ruin her, when her only friend is lost to her forever!"
"Of whom do you speak?" asked the czarina, frightened.
"I speak of those who hate me, because I will not join them in their treachery toward my empress—of those who hold out to me gold and diamonds, and who hate me because I will not sell my loyalty for pelf. Oh, I was flattered with orders and honors, promises and presents. But I would not listen. What cared I for future security? What mattered it to me that I was to be the victim of Paul's vengeance? I thought of you alone; and more to me was the safety of your crown than that of my worthless life! I was loyal and incorruptible!"
Catharine had listened with distended eyes and lips parted in suspense. When Potemkin named her son, her whole bearing changed. From the love-stricken woman she leaped at once into the magnificent Czarina.
"Potemkin," said she, imperiously, "I command you to rise and answer my questions."
Potemkin rose with the promptness of a well-trained slave, and said, humbly:
"Imperial mistress, speak—and, by the grave of my mother, I will answer truthfully."
"What means your allusion to the Grand Duke Paul? Who are the enemies that sought to corrupt you? What are their aims?"