The Daughter of an Empress

"No, Natalie, weep no more! Quick, dry your tears. Let not my

executioner see that we can feel pain or weep for sorrow!"

Drying her tears, she attempted a smile, but it was an unnatural,

painful smile.

"Ivan," said she, "we will forget, forget all, excepting that we love

each other, and thus only can I become cheerful. And tell me, Ivan, have

I not always been in good spirits? Have not these long eight years in

Siberia passed away like a pleasant summer day? Have not our hearts

remained warm, and has not our love continued undisturbed by the

inclement Siberian cold? You may, therefore, well see that I have the

courage to bear all that can be borne. But you, my beloved, you my

husband, to see you die, without being able to save you, without being

permitted to die with you, is a cruel and unnatural sacrifice! Ivan, let

me weep; let your murderer see that I yet have tears. Oh, my God, I have

no longer any pride, I am nothing but a poor heart-broken woman! Your

widow, I weep over the yet living corpse of my husband!" With convulsive

sobs the trembling young wife fell upon her knees and with frantic grief

clung to her husband's feet.

Count Ivan Dolgorucki no long felt the ability to stand aloof from her

sorrow. He bent down to his wife, raised her in his arms, and with her

he wept for his youth, his lost life, the vanishing happiness of his

love, and the shame of his fatherhood.

"I should joyfully go to my death, were it for the benefit of my

country," said he. "But to fall a sacrifice to a cabal, to the jealousy

of an insidious, knavish favorite, is what makes the death-hour fearful.

Ah, I die for naught, I die that Munnich, Ostermann, and Biron may

remain securely in power. It is horrible thus to die!"

Natalie's eyes flashed with a fanatic glow. "You die," said she, "and

I shall live, will live, to see how God will avenge you upon these

evil-doers. I will live, that I may constantly think of you, and in

every hour of the day address to God my prayers for vengeance and

retribution!"

"Live and pray for our fatherland!" said Ivan.

"No," she angrily cried, "rather let God's curse rest upon this Russia,

which delivers over its noblest men to the executioner, and raises its

ignoblest women to the throne. No blessing for Russia, which is cursed

in all generations and for all time--no blessing for Russia, whose

bloodthirsty czarina permits the slaughter of the noble Ivan and his

brothers!"