Catharine laid her jewelled hand upon Orloff's lips. "Hush, Orloff, do not vituperate. I have called for you to-day to give me peace. I do not wish the two men who share my heart to stand forever glaring at each other in implacable hatred. I wish to unite you through the sweet influences of a young couple's love. I beseech you, Gregory, do not refuse me the boon I crave. Give your consent for Basil to marry the Countess Alexandra, Potemkin's niece."

"Never!" thundered Orloff, starting to his feet, and retreating like an animal at bay. "Never will I consent for my bastard to marry the wench of such a contemptible fool as Potemkin!" [Footnote: Orloff's own words.

Raumer's Contributions, etc., vol. v., p. 412.]

Catharine rose from her couch with a look of tender reproach. "You will not grant my heart's dearest wish?" said she.

"I cannot do it, Catharine." cried Orloff, wildly. "My blood boils at the very thought of being connected to Potemkin. No, indeed! No tie shall ever bind me to him, that hinders my hand, should you one day ask of me, to sever his head from his body."

Catharine again put her hand before Orloff's mouth. "Hush, you fulminating Jove!" said she. "Must you be forever forging thunderbolts, or waging war with Titans? But you know too well that in your godlike moods you are irresistible. What a triumph it is to win a boon from such a man! Invest me with this glory Orloff; and I give up my plan for a marriage between Basil and Potemkin's niece."

"Niece," echoed Orloff, "say his mistress!"

"Not so," exclaimed Catharine. "So treacherous, I will not believe Potemkin to be!"

"Nevertheless, Alexandra is his mistress, and the whole court knows it."

"If I find it so, Potemkin shall feel the weight of my vengeance, and nothing shall save him!" cried Catharine, her eyes darting fire. "But I tell you it is not so. He has his faults, but this is not one of them."

"Then you confess that the great Potemkin has faults, do you!"

"It was precisely because of his faults that I sent for you!"

"Me!"

"You--Gregory Orloff, the truest of the true! You have done me good service in your life; to you I am indebted for my crown, and you are its brightest jewel. But I have a favor now to ask of you which concerns my happiness more than any thing you have ever done for me before, my Gregory."

"Speak, my empress, speak, and I will die to serve you;" replied Orloff, inspired by Catharine's earnestness.

She laid her white hand upon his shoulder, and said in her most enticing tones: "Be the friend of Potemkin. Let him learn by your example to be more careful of the great trusts which he holds from me; more conciliating, and more grateful. For, indeed, in return for all the favors I bestow upon him, he makes my life one long martyrdom. For God's sake, Orloff, be friendly with Potemkin, and try to rescue me from the tempests which daily and hourly burst over my devoted head." [Footnote: Catharine's own words.] She leaned her head upon his bosom, and looked imploringly into his face.

"Your majesty," said Orloff, warmly, "you know that I am your slave. If Potemkin is obnoxious to you, speak the word, and I annihilate him. But my reputation will not permit me to consort with a man whom I despise, and whom I should be forced, nevertheless, to regard as the first subject of the empire. Pardon me if I cannot grant your majesty's petition."

"Go, then, cruel man, and leave me to my fate," said Catharine in tears.

"Since your majesty desires it, I retire." And Orloff bowing, turned to leave the room, but Catharine threw herself upon the sofa with a sob and he returned.

"Do you weep for Potemkin?" said he. "Spare your tears. He loves no one but himself, and his only aim in life is to enervate and weaken YOUR mind, that he may reign in your stead."

"Oh, Orloff, be merciful!" said Catharine, clasping her hands.

But Orloff continued: "Potemkin has essentially damaged your fleet; he has ruined your army; and what is worse, he has lowered you in the estimation of your subjects, and of the world. If you are willing to be rid of so dangerous a man, my life is at your disposal: but if you must temporize with him, I do nothing to further measures which are to be carried out by flattery and hypocrisy."

"I believe you, unhappily I believe you," said Catharine, weeping.

"Potemkin deserves all that you say of him, but I have not the heart to punish him as he deserves. I cannot bid you destroy the giant whose shadow darkens my throne. You see, Orloff, that I am a poor, weak woman, and have not the strength to punish the guilty."

"I see that your majesty prizes the oppressor of my country far more than that country's self; and since it is so, I have nothing more to do here. Farewell, Catharine--I must return to Gatzchina."

He kissed the hand of the empress, and passed into the adjoining apartment. He went slowly through the magnificent state-rooms, through which he had to pass to the corridor, and with weeping eyes Catharine followed his tall form from door to door. She would have leaned for support upon that strong man, but he refused to shelter her, and she felt a sense of desolation which seemed to her a presentiment of evil.

"Orloff, Orloff!" cried she, imploringly; and she hastened after him. He was passing out into the corridor, when he heard her voice, and saw her coming fleet as a dove toward him.

"Orloff," said she, panting for breath, "do not leave St. Petersburg to-day. Remain for three days, and, perhaps, in that time I may gather courage to accept your help, and rid myself of this man."

"I will await your majesty's decision," replied Orloff; "and if then my sword is not required in your service, I shall leave St. Petersburg forever."

He bowed, and the heavy portiere fell behind him as he passed from the czarina's sight. Slowly she returned to her cabinet, murmuring, "Three days he will wait to know if--"

But suddenly she started, appalled at the sight of an apparition that occupied the divan on which she was about to repose her weary limbs. She uttered a wild scream of terror, for on this divan sat--Potemkin.

CHAPTER CXXXVII.

THE CZARINA AND HER MASTER.

With flashing eyes, folded arms, and pale, stern, face, sat Potemkin, and his glance seemed about to annihilate the terrified woman, who had neither strength to call for help nor self-possession to greet her unwelcome visitor. He rose, however, and came forward. Catharine trembled and shuddered as he passed her by, locked the door and put the key in his pocket.

The empress looked around, and in deadly fear saw that there was no hope of rescue. She was alone with Potemkin, entirely alone!

Not a word had yet been spoken, but this fearful silence affrighted her more than a tempest of angry words would have done.

At last Potemkin stood directly before her, and spoke. "If Potemkin is obnoxious to you, speak the word, and I annihilate him."

"Oh!" screamed Catharine, "he knows all."

"Yes, I know all--I heard Orloff offer to be my executioner. Pray, why did you not accept the offer at once?"

He had come so near, that Catharine felt his hot breath upon her brow, like the blast from a furnace.

"I ask you again," said he, stamping his foot with fury, "why do you not let the axe of your executioner fall upon my neck? Answer me!"

Catharine was speechless with fright, and Potemkin, exasperated at her silence, raised his clinched hand, and looked so fierce, that the czarina fell backward almost upon her knees, murmuring--"Potemkin, would you kill me!"

"And if I did," cried he, grinding his teeth, "would death not be the just punishment of your treachery? Your treachery to me, who have given you my heart, my soul, my life, while you betray and accuse me, not face to face, as would an honorable woman, but behind my back as becomes a coward and a hypocrite! Look at me, and answer my question, I command you!"

Again he raised his hand, and his deep voice rolled like angry thunder in her ear. Catharine, against her will, obeyed his voice, and raised her eyes to his. She saw his lofty brow, like that of an angry demi-god, his dark, dangerous, fiery eyes, his glistening teeth, his magnificent frame, lithe, athletic, and graceful as that of "The statue that enchants the world," and a sensation of shuddering ecstasy flooded her whole being. Forgotten were her fears, her terror, her dream of vengeance; and, regardless of the hand which was still raised to threaten her, she cried out, in tones of mingled love and anguish:

"Oh, Alexandrowitsch, how preter-human is your beauty! You stand, like an avenging god, before me; and I--I can only worship and tremble!"

With faltering steps she approached, and folding her arms around his stalwart form, she laid her head upon his breast, and wept.

"See," murmured she, "I am here to receive the stroke. Let me die by your hand, Gregory Alexandrowitsch, for since you love me no longer, I am weary of life!"

Potemkin heaved a sigh, and freeing himself from Catharine's arms, fell back upon the sofa, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed convulsively.

"Why do you weep, Potemkin?" said Catharine, hastening to his side.

"Why I weep!" exclaimed he. "I weep because of my own crime. Despair had well-nigh made of me a traitor. Why does not this hand wither, which was uplifted to touch the anointed of the Lord! Why does not Heaven smite the wretch whose misery had tempted him to such irreverence of his sovereign!"