The Daughter of an Empress

The people were running to and fro in the wildest confusion in the

streets of St. Petersburg; they cried and shouted vivas to their

empress who to-day accorded to them the splendid spectacle of the

knouting of some respectable ladies and gentlemen! Ah, that was a very

gracious and condescending empress to provide once more a delightful

spectacle for her serfs at the expense of the nobility! That was an

empress after their own hearts--real Russian blood!

Shrieking and shouting they rushed to the place of execution, pressing

against the barriers that separated the central point from the

spectators. There stood the bearded assistants of the executioner, there

lay the knouts and other instruments, and with eager glances the people

devoured all: they found all these preparations admirable, they rejoiced

with unrestrained delight in the prospect of seeing the handsomest woman

in the realm flayed with the knout. And not the common people alone, the

noblesse must also be present; the great magnates of the court

must also come, if they would avoid exciting a suspicion that they

commiserated the condemned and revolted at their punishment. They all

came, these slavish magnates, perhaps with tears in their hearts, but

with smiles upon their lips; perhaps murmuring secret curses, but aloud

applauding the just sentence of the empress.

Now the closed carriages of the condemned were seen approaching in a

long, lingering train; the train halted, the doors were opened, and

in the centre of the place of execution appeared Eleonore Lapuschkin,

radiant with the brilliancy of the purest beauty, her noble form

enveloped in a full, draping robe, which lent to her loveliness an

additional charm. She looked around with an astonished and interrogating

glance, as if awaking from a confused dream. Young, amiable, the

first and most celebrated lady of the court, of which she was the most

brilliant ornament, she now sees herself, instead of the admirers who

humbly paid their court to her, surrounded by these rough executioners,

who regard her with bold and insolent glances, eagerly stretching forth

their hands for their prey. One of them, approaching her, ventures to

rend from her bosom the kerchief that covers it. Eleonore, shuddering,

shrinks back, her cheeks are pale as marble, a stream of tears gushes

from her eyes. In vain she implores, in vain her lamentations, in vain

her trembling innocence, in vain her efforts to cover herself anew. Her

clothes are torn off, and in a few moments she stands there naked to the

girdle, with all the upper portion of her person exposed to the eager

glances of the masses, who in silence stare at this specimen of the

purest feminine beauty.

The proud lily is broken, shattered; she bows her head, the storm

has crushed her. Incapable of resistance, she is seized by one of the

executioners, who, by a sudden movement, throws her upon her back.

Another then approaches and places her in the most convenient position

for receiving the punishment. Soon, with rough brutality, he lays his

broad hand upon her head, and places it so that it may not be hit by

the knout, and then, like a butcher who is about to throttle a lamb,

he caresses that snow-white back, as if taking pleasure in the

contemplation of the wonderful fairness of his victim.