The room was thronged, and to avoid interruption M. de Lambert and I remained standing at the entrance, silent observers of the scene. The drama was not without wit, but of a coarse and common sort that would have been little to the taste of the Court of Versailles. However, the audience seemed to enjoy it, especially the czar, who sat almost in the center of the salon surrounded by his immediate circle, Mentchikof, Sheremetief, Repnin, Dolgoruky, and Prince Gregory Galitsyn, a cousin of my exiled friend. The rival interests of the court were represented. At a short distance from the czar were Madame Golovin, Madame Sheremetief, the Arsenief sisters, and Catherine Shavronsky, the last in a splendid robe of white velvet embroidered in silver, and wearing a rope of pearls around her full white throat. It was a brilliant scene of light and color, for all the great personages in Moscow were there, and the gay velvet coats and powdered perukes made an odd contrast to the old costumes that I remembered so well. Here were ruffles of lace and the sheen of satin, and on nearly every breast gleamed a rare jewel or a conspicuous order, the czar alone wearing his usual simple attire, as if he scorned the rules that he made for others.
When the drama was over, I advanced to make my obeisance to Peter. He received me graciously, but scarcely noticed M. de Lambert, which was enough to convince me that Tikhon had not failed to report his observations. Mentchikof saw the young man’s embarrassment, and taking him aside talked pleasantly for a quarter of an hour. Catherine Shavronsky was also gracious to him, which amused me not a little, especially as I noticed that the czar was observing her narrowly, and seemed to take an unusual interest in her conduct. I could not deny to myself that she was beautiful, and that there was something about her that suggested an ability above the common order. It was not long before I found myself in her vicinity, and she greeted me with a brilliant smile, extending her hand. She was not trammelled by Mademoiselle Zotof’s blushes and youthful dignity; her manner was calm and frank. It was, perhaps, this very quality that appealed to the czar’s fancy.
“You were tardy, M. le Maréchal,” she said, upbraiding me. “I had almost given up the hope of seeing you, and we are fortunate to-night in having the presence of his Majesty.”
“I thought that the czar was frequently here, mademoiselle,” I said purposely, “in the house of his favored friend.”
“Then you are mistaken, sir,” she retorted a little tartly. “It is long since his Majesty has been here to enjoy a play. We have been under a cloud, or, at least, so it seemed.”
I stood a moment looking upon the floor. In fact, I was revolving many things in my mind.
“Mademoiselle,” I remarked absently, “it may be that some other star drew away the imperial attention for the moment.”
A peculiar expression came over her face.
“You have seen the star,” she said, taking up my figure of speech. “Was it beautiful?”
“Most lovely, mademoiselle,” I said at once; “pure and unsullied in its radiance.”