“Ah, that is true!” said Elizabeth, stepping to her writing-table. This time she was not too indolent to write; no representations nor prayers were needed. It concerned the seeing of her daughter—how, then, could she have thought writing painful or troublesome?
With the same pen with which, a short time before, she had so unwillingly signed the congratulatory letter, she now wrote upon a sheet of paper, provided with her seal these words:
“The Count Rasczinsky may be admitted.
“ELIZABETH.”
She handed the paper to the count, who pressed it to his lips.
“You can retain this paper for all time,” said the empress, as she dismissed him. “I know that I can wholly confide in you. You will never sell or betray my Natalie?”
“Never!” protested the count, taking his leave.
Hastily mounting his horse, he galloped through the streets, and when, having left the city behind him, he found himself in the open country where no one could observe him, he drew the paper Elizabeth had given him from his bosom, and waving it high in the air, shouted:
“Good fortune, good fortune! This paper is my talisman and my future! With this paper I will give Russia an empress, and make myself her emperor!”