here was no lovelier woman in all the Russias than Carolina, the wife of Alexis, eldest son and presumptive heir to Peter the Great. Her beauty was not only that of the body, for her sweet temper and gentle disposition made her beloved by all who were brought in contact with her. The only being who did not yield to the charms of her surpassing beauty and amiability was the one who ought to have prized her above all others—her husband. His nature was far too coarse and brutal to appreciate the treasure that he possessed, and the more he saw how universally beloved his wife was, the more did she become an object of aversion to him. For some time he treated her with cold neglect, but by degrees he became more brutal in his behaviour, until one day, when she offended him in some trifling respect, he dealt her an inhuman blow which stretched her, apparently lifeless, at his feet. Well pleased at being delivered so easily from what he only regarded as a hateful burden, he gave orders that she should be buried with all due pomp, and hastened away to another part of the kingdom.
But when her ladies of honour came to raise the unhappy princess, they found that she still breathed. Under the devoted attention of the Countess of Konigsmark, who had always been her confidential attendant, she slowly won her way back to life, and this while her funeral obsequies were being celebrated with the greatest pomp throughout the length and breadth of Russia, while the principal courts of Europe were mourning her premature decease, and while her unnatural husband was drowning the remembrance of his horrible crime in revelries and excesses of all kinds. None knew that she was still alive but the Countess of Konigsmark and one or two other of her most devoted adherents. They kept her concealed from everyone; for well they knew that Alexis, should he hear of her recovery, would take measures to rid himself of her effectually. Acting under their advice, the princess collected all the valuables she was able to lay her hands on, and, in company with an old domestic, who assumed the character of her father, set out for Paris. Here, however, she felt still within reach of Alexis, and so, with her supposed father, she set sail for Louisiana, where the French had lately formed extensive colonies. They settled down in New Orleans, and Carolina began to rapidly recover her health and beauty.
A young man, by name Moldask, who held a Government appointment in New Orleans and who had spent many years in Russia thought that he recognised in the beautiful stranger the princess who had been the brightest star of the Muscovite Court. However, he could not believe that the highborn lady of whose death he had heard and the daughter of the feeble old man who had lately arrived from France were the same person, wonderful though the resemblance between them might be. He kept his ideas secret, but made himself so useful and agreeable to the strangers, that finally they settled to cast in their lot with his, and live under the same roof. Before the lapse of many months the news of Alexis' death reached New Orleans. Moldask noticed the agitation with which his friends received it, and told them that their secret was his. They did not attempt a denial; so he offered to sacrifice his private fortune, throw up his position in New Orleans, and take Carolina back to Moscow. This offer she would hear nothing of. She thanked Moldask again and again for his noble generosity, but expressed her fixed determination not to revisit the scene of all that had been most unpleasant in her life. She begged him not to betray her secret, and he readily promised to keep it inviolate. The truth was that he had lost his heart to the widow of Czar Peter's son. Respect, however, controlled his feelings. He knew how exalted was her real station compared to his, and resolved to conceal his love.
Time passed on, and one autumn evening a pararalytic stroke carried off Carolina's pseudo-father. After this it was, of course, impossible that she and Moldask should continue to inhabit the same house. He came to her on the morning after her faithful old friend's funeral, and explained that he must seek a new abode unless she would so far cast away all thoughts of her former station as to consent to call him husband. The princess, who had long regarded him with feelings warmer than those of mere friendship, agreed to link her fate with his, and from now began the happiest period of her so far troubled life. Their union was blessed by the advent of a little girl; nothing seemed wanting to render her happiness complete.
Years rolled by, and Moldask was attacked by a disease which baffled the skill of the New Orleans doctors. His wife was determined that he should have the best medical advice, and so persuaded him to sell all his possessions and embark for Paris. Their journey was not in vain; the skill of the Parisian physicians restored Moldask to good health, and he obtained employment in a department of the French Government.
One day, as Carolina was walking in the public gardens with her little girl, she met the son of her faithful friend, the Countess of Konigsmark. She recognised him instantly, and, fearing that he might know her, tried to brush past him with averted head. The Marshal, however, was struck with her appearance, and, turning round, followed her until she sat down beneath some trees. The instant that he caught a fair sight of her he recognised his former mistress, and quickly approaching, bent his knee and carried her hand to his lips. She implored him not to divulge her secret, but to come with her to her home, and hear how she had fared since Alexis had, as he thought, killed her. The Marshal consented to accompany her; he listened with interest to her tale, and when he had heard it to the end announced his intention of informing the King of France, that her highness might be restored to her proper position and honours. Carolina, however, was quite determined that this should not be. She begged the Marshal to keep her secret for one week, as her husband had certain negotiations, which would be ruined if her identity were disclosed. This he consented to do, and Carolina dismissed him, with the assurance that on that day week he should be definitely informed of her wishes in the matter.
On the appointed day the Marshal found that the princess and her husband had left their home. However, he succeeded in tracing them, and told the king of the noble lady who was then in his dominions. His Majesty entered into negotiations with the Empress Maria Theresa, with a view to deciding upon the manner in which her august aunt should be treated. The upshot of these negotiations was a most tender letter from the Empress to Carolina, asking her to make the Austrian court her home, and promising to load her husband and herself with honours and distinctions. But the happy wife and mother felt that the life she had been leading for the last few years was preferable in every way to the artificial existence of a court, and refused her niece's generous offer. It was renewed again and again; but nothing could shake her determination.
For many years she led a life of the utmost happiness, and then death deprived her of both husband and daughter. Maria Theresa renewed her offers; but Carolina preferred to pass the rest of her days in solitude. She accepted a small pension from the Empress, and retired to a small cottage at Vitry, near Paris. After a quiet existence here for some few years more she passed away, without ever having regretted her refusal to rejoin the brilliant circle of a court.