“No, no,” interposed Alexis, kissing her hand, “I need neither wealth nor titles; I need nothing, desire nothing but to be near you, to be able to breathe the air that has fanned your cheek. I desire nothing for myself, but everything for my friends here, with whose faithful aid we shall soon be enabled to greet you a real empress.”
Elizabeth’s brow beamed with the purest blessedness. “You are as unselfish as the angels in heaven, my Alexis,” said she. “It suffices you that I am Elizabeth, you languish not for this imperial title which these others would force upon me.”
Alexis smilingly shook his fine head. “You err, princess,” said he; “I would freely and joyfully give my heart’s blood, could I this day but salute you as empress! I should then, at least, have no more to fear from this strange prince whom they would compel you to marry!”
A cloud passed over the brow of the princess. “Yes, you are right,” said she, “we must avoid that at all events, and if there are no other means, very well, I shall know what to decide upon—I shall venture an attempt to dethrone the regent and make myself empress! But, my friends, let that now suffice. I need rest. Call my women to undress me, Woronzow. Good-night, good-night, my high and lofty vassals, your great and powerful empress allows you to kiss her hand!”
With a pleasing graciousness she extended her fair hands to her friends, who respectfully pressed them to their lips and then departed.
“Alexis!” called the princess, as Razumovsky was about to withdraw with the others—“Alexis, you will remain awhile. While my women are undressing me, you shall sing me to sleep with that charming slumber-song you sing so splendidly!”
Alexis smiled and remained.
A quarter of an hour later deep silence prevailed in the dark palace of Elizabeth, and through the stillness of the night was heard only the sweetly-melodious voice of the handsome Alexis, who was singing his slumber-song to the princess.
From this day forward her four trusted friends left the princess no peace. They so stormed her with prayers and supplications, Alexis so well knew how to represent his despair at her approaching and unavoidable marriage, that the amiable princess, to satisfy her friends and be left herself at peace, declared herself ready to sanction the plans of her confidants and enter into a conspiracy against the regent.
Soon a small party was formed for the cause of the princess. Grunstein—who, as the princess had said, from a bankrupt merchant had attained the position of subordinate officer—Grunstein had succeeded in winning for the cause of the princess some fifty grenadiers of the Preobrajensky regiment, to which he belonged; and these people, drunkards and dissolute fellows, were the principal props upon which Elizabeth’s throne was to be established! They were neither particular about the means resorted to for the accomplishment of the proposed revolution, nor careful to envelop their movements in secrecy.