And Potemkin flung himself at Catharine's feet, crying out:

"Kill me, Catharine, that I may not go mad for remorse of my treason!"

Catharine smiled, and tried to raise him up.

"No," said she, tenderly, "live, and live for me."

But Potemkin still clung to her feet.

"No, let me lie here as the sinner lies before the altar of the Most High! I am a traitor--but despair has made me criminal. As I stood behind the tapestry, and heard how my empress accused me, I felt that the spectral hand of madness was hovering above my brain. Oh, Catharine, it is you whom I adore, you who have made of me a lunatic!"

Again he buried his face in Catharine's robes, and wept. She, perfectly disarmed, leaned over him, caressing him with her hands, and imploring him to be comforted.

"Let me lie here and weep," continued her Alexandrowitsch, "not for me, but for my Catharine--the star of my life! She, whom my enemies would deceive; that deceiving they might ruin her, when her only friend is lost to her forever!"

"Of whom do you speak?" asked the czarina, frightened.

"I speak of those who hate me, because I will not join them in their treachery toward my empress--of those who hold out to me gold and diamonds, and who hate me because I will not sell my loyalty for pelf.

Oh, I was flattered with orders and honors, promises and presents. But I would not listen. What cared I for future security? What mattered it to me that I was to be the victim of Paul's vengeance? I thought of you alone; and more to me was the safety of your crown than that of my worthless life! I was loyal and incorruptible!"

Catharine had listened with distended eyes and lips parted in suspense.

When Potemkin named her son, her whole bearing changed. From the love-stricken woman she leaped at once into the magnificent Czarina.

"Potemkin," said she, imperiously, "I command you to rise and answer my questions."

Potemkin rose with the promptness of a well-trained slave, and said, humbly:

"Imperial mistress, speak--and, by the grave of my mother, I will answer truthfully."

"What means your allusion to the Grand Duke Paul? Who are the enemies that sought to corrupt you? What are their aims?"

"The grand duke is weary of his subordinate position, and yearns for the crown which he thinks it is his right to wear."

Catharine's two hands clutched at her head, as though to defend her crown.

"He shall not have it!" she screamed. "He will not dare to raise his impious hands to snatch his mother's rights away!"

"He will find other hands to do it; for you well know, Catharine, that the crime from which we recoil ourselves, we transfer to other hands, while we accept its fruits."

Catharine shuddered, and grew pale.

"Yes, yes," murmured she to herself, "yes, I know it--well I know it, for it has murdered sleep for me!"

"And the grand duke has accomplices, Catharine. Not one, nor two--but half of your subjects mutter within themselves that the crown you wear has been Paul's since his majority. Russia is one grand conspiracy against you, and your enemies have pitched their tents at the foot of your throne. They may well hate the only man who stands between you and destruction. Their arrows have glanced harmlessly from the adamantine shield of his loyalty, and there remained but the alternative of calumniating him to his empress. Oh, Catharine, my angel; beware of Paul, who has never forgotten how his father lost his life! Beware of Orloff, who has never forgiven you for loving me! Both these traitors, with Panin to truckle to them, are in league with Von Gortz to force you into a league destructive of Russian aggrandizement. Oh, my beloved! sun of my existence! mount into the heaven of your own greatness, and let not the cloud of intrigue obscure your light. And when safe in the noonday of your splendor, you think of this day, let one warm ray of memory stream upon the grave of the man who died because his empress ceased to love him!"

At the conclusion of his peroration, Potemkin knelt down and passionately kissed the hem of Catharine's robe. Then, springing up, he clasped his hands, and turned away. But the empress darted after him like an enraged lioness, and, catching his arm, gasped:

"What! you would leave me, Alexandrowitsch?"

"Yes--I go to Orloff, to receive my death! The empress has willed it, and she shall find me obedient even unto my latest breath."

"No, Gregory," said Catharine, weeping profusely, "you shall remain to shield me from my enemies."

So saying, she put her arms around his neck, but he drew them away.

"No, Catharine, no! After what I have heard to-day. I do not desire to live. Let me die! let me die!"

"Potemkin," cried she, struggling to detain him, "I shall never, never mistrust you again. And I promise you that Gregory Orloff shall never pass this threshold again."

"How? Do you promise to sacrifice Orloff to me?" cried Potemkin, eagerly, cured in a thrice of his desire for death.

"I do, Gregory, I do. There shall be but one Gregory to reign over my court and my heart, and he shall be Gregory Potemkin!"

"You swear it, Catharine?"

"My imperial word thereupon. Now will you remain and protect me?"

"Yes, I remain, to confound your enemies. It shall not be said that I am flown in the hour when your noble head is endangered. I shall remain for your sake, for the peril is very great, Catharine."

"Gracious Heaven, Gregory, what danger threatens me?"

"You ask me such a question while Paul lives, and has Orloff and Panin for his accomplices, and Frederick for his friend?"

"Oh, no, dear Gregory, your anxiety leads you into error. I know that Paul hates me, but I do not believe that Prussia is his ally; for it is clearly the interest of Prussia to conciliate me, and he is too wise to entangle himself in such conspiracies just at the expiration of our treaty."

"Oh, you noble, unsuspecting woman!" cried Potemkin, ardently, "you know nothing of the egotism of the world. You believe in the honesty of Frederick, while he speculates upon the consequences of your death!"

The empress grew pale and her eyes flashed with anger. "Prove it to me,"

said she, imperiously.

Potemkin drew from his bosom the letter he had that morning received from Frederick. Catharine read it, and then said, "Much flattery, and many mysterious promises. What do they mean?"

"Count von Gortz was so good as to explain. The king offered to make me Duke of Courland, to give me a German princess in marriage, and to secure me the favor of your successor."

"That is not possible!" exclaimed Catharine, "those were idle words."

"Oh, no, your majesty, I will prove to you that they are not, as soon as Von Gortz is announced."

The empress looked at the clock, which pointed to two.

"It is exactly the hour I appointed to receive him." said she. "He must be in the anteroom."

"Have I your permission to go to him?"

The empress nodded, and Potemkin, drawing the key from his pocket, unlocked the door and disappeared. Catharine locked after him, and heaving a bitter sigh, said: "No more hope of rescue! He rules over me like irresistible destiny!"

In a few moments Potemkin returned with the paper. Catharine having looked over it, returned it with a smile.