An imperial lover

by Mary Imlay Taylor

I walked away from Mentchikof’s house with a heavy heart. I knew that Najine’s position was dangerous, and that Catherine’s folly had turned the scale in Zotof’s favor. The favorite would never have uttered his veiled threat against mademoiselle unless he felt that she held the key to the situation, that the czar was prepared to let his inclinations govern him at last, and would take some step towards publicly declaring his choice to be the young girl who had bewitched him. I knew that he had wavered between the two women, the one whom he already loved and the one who loved him; but now that the latter had been betrayed into something that savored so closely of treason, he would naturally turn to the young woman who by birth and education was best fitted to succeed the Czarina Eudoxia. Catherine, the Livonian peasant girl, might be the toy of the hour, but Najine would be the Czarina of Russia. Poor mademoiselle, my heart was touched whenever I remembered the expression of her dark blue eyes when she listened to my eulogium of her lover. How little would her opposition avail her if Peter was determined to wed her! Her family would be solid in the support of her imperial lover, a crown would tempt her, an autocrat compel her; and yet, when I recalled the haughty pose of her head, I wondered if they would find her as pliable as they supposed. Poor M. de Lambert! What evil fate had turned his fancy into the same channel as a king’s? My friend was recovered from his wound and was as headstrong as ever; and what would come of it?

I walked slowly to my quarters, revolving many things in my mind, and so absorbed that I scarcely noticed the men whom I passed, although it was an hour before noon, and the streets were full; but I had the habit of preoccupation and could be solitary in a crowd. When I turned into the lane behind my lodgings, however, I became suddenly aware that some one was following me, and looking back saw the Swede, Gustavus Lenk. I halted and signed to him to approach, which he did readily enough, thus refuting a momentary doubt of his integrity.

“Why do you follow me?” I asked, a trifle sharply.

“I was waiting for an opportunity to speak to you, my lord,” he replied quietly; “I did not like to stop you on the open street, so many are abroad to-day.”

“You have some tidings for my ear alone?” I inquired, marvelling a little at the man’s strange gratitude to us.

“Your Excellency,” he began, hesitating a trifle, “am I mistaken in thinking that the young Frenchman who was attacked by the bridge is interested in the family of the Councillor Zotof?”

I was not a little surprised. “You are not mistaken,” I replied at once; “have you any tidings of them?”

“I do not spy upon these people myself,” he said, his face flushing under my eyes; “but others do, and information reaches me. It is rumored that the czar will select the niece of Zotof for his bride, and it is whispered, also, that she herself is in danger from the jealousy of others.”

I listened gravely; he was not telling me anything new, and yet it was a shock to have my own worst fears confirmed.

“I thank you,” I said briefly. “Any tidings that you can bring us will be welcome; any service that you can render to mademoiselle will be as much esteemed as a service to one of us.” Remembering that he had accepted my wife’s gift, I drew a ring from my finger and gave it to him. “Accept it,” I said, “not only as an acknowledgment, but if any trouble threatens mademoiselle or M. de Lambert, send it to me as a signal.”