The Daughter of an Empress

"Punish them all, all!" had Elizabeth said, "but the regent, her

husband, and her son--them you will permit to return to Germany!"

"We must accomplish the will of the empress, and therefore let them go!"

"We will obey her commands," said Lestocq to Alexis Razumovsky. "We

must let them go free, but it would be dangerous to let them ever reach

Germany. With their persons they would preserve their rights and their

claims, and Elizabeth would always stand in fear of this regent and this

young growing emperor, whose claims to the imperial Russian crown are

incontestable. You alone, Razumovsky, can turn away this danger from the

head of the empress, by convincing her of its reality, and inducing her

to change her mind. Reflect that the safety of the empress is our own;

reflect that, as we have risen with her, so shall we fall with her!"

"Rely upon me," said Alexis, with a confident smile; "this regent and

her young Emperor Ivan shall never pass the Russian boundary! Let them

now go, but send a strong guard with them, and travel by slow marches,

that our couriers may be able to overtake them at a later period. That

is all you have to do in the case."

And, humming a sentimental song, Alexis repaired to the apartments of

the empress.

Before the back door of the palace Elizabeth had occupied as princess, a

travelling-sledge was waiting. Gayly sounded and clattered the bells on

the six small horses attached to the sledge; gayly did the postilions

blow their horns, and with enticing calls resounded the thundering

fanfares through the cold winter air.

To those for whom this sledge was destined, this call sounded like a

greeting from heaven. It was to them the dove with the olive-branch,

announcing to them the end of their torments; it was the messenger of

peace, which gave them back their freedom, their lives, and perhaps

even happiness. They were to return to Germany, their long-missed home;

hastening through the Russian snow-fields, they would soon reach a

softer climate, where they would be surrounded by milder manners and

customs. What was it to Anna that she was to be deprived of earthly

elevation and power--what cared she that she henceforth would no more

have the pleasure of commanding others? She was free, free from the task

of ruling slaves and humanizing barbarians; free from the constraint

of greatness, and, finally free to live in conformity with her own

inclinations, and perhaps, ah, perhaps, to found a happiness, the bare

dreaming of which already caused her heart to tremble with unspeakable

ecstasy.

Again and again the fanfares resounded without. Anna, weeping, tore

herself from the arms of Julia. She had in vain implored the favor of

taking Julia von Mengden with her. Elizabeth had refused it, and, in

this refusal, she had pronounced the sentence of the favorite--this was

understood by both Julia and Anna.