Read Ebook: The Princess Tarakanova: A Dark Chapter of Russian History by Danilevskii G P Grigorii Petrovich Mouchanoff Ida De Translator

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Ebook has 934 lines and 53913 words, and 19 pages

"I know, I know," interrupted the Princess, "how all powerful and idolized by her people the present empress is; and it is not for me--poor, weak, and abandoned by all, torn from the Imperial house, and from the land of my birth--to try to dispute the throne with her. I am the most devoted of her slaves."

"Then what are you seeking? what are you expecting?" I asked with astonishment.

"Protection, and that my rights may be respected."

"Excuse me," I returned; "but you must first prove your birth and your rights."

The Princess tendered me a French version of the papers mentioned. I looked them over hastily.

"But these are only copies," said I; "mere translations."

"Oh, yes; but make your mind easy: the originals are in safe hands.... How would it be possible to carry such important documents about with me; the risk would be too great," answered the Princess, turning her head a little from me. Then she moved to the other side of the room, where, in heavy gilt frames, hung two oil paintings: one a remarkably good copy of the portrait of the late Empress Elizabeth Petrowna, with a small crown upon her head; the other that of the Princess now standing before me.

"Do you see the likeness?" she said, looking at me.

"Well, yes, there is a likeness. I noticed it as soon as I came in," I answered. "Allow me to ask how long ago that portrait was taken?"

"This very year, at Venice.... The celebrated Piacetti painted my intended bridegroom's portrait, the Prince Radzivill's, and begged to be allowed to paint mine at the same time."

"How so?" I answered, quite astonished. "Then you also confess that he is an impostor?"

"But who was your father?" I ventured to ask.

"Is it possible that you do not guess?" she answered, slightly frowning. "Alexis Razoumovski, who was married secretly to my mother. My childhood I passed travelling from one place to another; but it is quite indistinct even to me. I remember a retired little village in the South of Russia, from which I was carried off. They would, if they could, have effaced from my mind every remembrance of the past; and to that end they lavished money upon me and took me about from place to place. Count Shouvaloff, apparently, was acquainted with the circumstances. Not long ago, when travelling in Europe, he expressed the wish to see me, and we met secretly."

"What! you saw the Count Shouvaloff? Where?" I exclaimed, amazed, as I recollected that not a few people looked upon him as her father.

"I met him at the waters of Spa.... Friends warned me of that celebrated Russian traveller, but I could not refuse him. I found him to be an elderly person, rather stout, and bearing traces of no common beauty. His dress was most costly. He came to me under an assumed name, and when speaking with me sorrowfully fixed his eyes upon me and attentively examined my features. I could see he was very agitated. I learned afterwards that he was my late mother's favourite, Ivan Shouvaloff. I really cannot tell why he looked so moved. It is not for me, of course,--as you may well understand,--to say. That secret my mother took to her grave, with many others."

The Princess was silent; I also.

"Whose protection, whose help, do you seek?" I at last ventured to ask, troubled with so many impressions.

The Princess locked the paper in a casket, put it away, took up a fan, and again sitting down, began looking out of the window.

"Are you willing to help me?" she asked very seriously, instead of answering my question.

I knew not what to answer.

"Are you willing to give me, should I need it, every help in your power?"

"But what sort of help?"

"Orloff!" I repeated in amazement.

"Of course; he himself. You are astonished, eh?" answered the Princess, fanning herself and looking me boldly in the face. "Yes; what do you say to that?"

"Excuse me, Your Grace, but I cannot help speaking out my earnest conviction that all this is but a child's dream. On what do you found your hopes of such--excuse me the expression--such treason from the count?"

"Treason!"--cried out the Princess, suddenly reddening; "but, of course, you must be excused. You were so long a prisoner, there is a great deal for you to learn"; and she contemptuously smiled, nervously playing with her fan. "The power and the influence of the Orloffs have greatly fallen; their sworn and hidden foes, the P?nins, are now in the ascendency. The empress's favourite, Gregory Orloff, allow me to tell you, has been already replaced by another; he, in his anger, broke off the negotiations begun with the Sultan, and flew from the banks of the Danube to Petersburg. But he was not received at court, but exiled to Revel. Ah! you are astonished. Well, learn still further. Your chief, Count Alexis Orloff, his feelings as a brother insulted, no longer hides his opinions: he is ripe for revenge; and there is no doubt, of course, that he can be very useful to me. You see, what news! I have already sent a letter to the Count Alexis, and a short manifesto."

"A manifesto! but what about?"

"If Orloff decides on taking my part, I advise him then to proclaim my manifesto to the fleet, take me on board, and stand up for my rights."

"But that is impossible. Excuse me," I tried to answer; "your actions are bold, but you have not reflected enough."

"Why do you think so?" asked the Princess, astonished. "The malcontents are seeking revenge, the forgotten recompense for their well-known services. To Orloff alone--and that every one knows--to him alone Ekaterina owes her throne."

The Princess rose, walked up and down the room, and at last threw the window open. She was nearly stifled. She began again explaining her plan in its smallest details: how she hoped, with the aid of the fleet, to invade Russia. She would listen to none of my arguments. It seemed as if nothing could convince her. It was plainly visible that this capricious, spoiled, self-willed woman, whose feelings burst forth like lava hidden under ashes, thought she could measure her strength with the most desperate of men.

I was indignant at her childish and blind confidence in herself.

"Well, let it be so. Do you speak Russian?" I decided on asking her.

The Princess blushed. "I do not speak it. I have, of course, forgotten it, unfortunately," she answered, coughing. "In my infancy, when but three years old, I was taken from Oukraine to Siberia, where they nearly poisoned me; from there into Persia, where I was placed with an old woman in Ispahan, who took me to live in Bagdad, where a certain M. Fournier taught me French.... So it would have been rather strange if I did remember my own language."

I still continued sitting, my eyes fixed on the ground. I could not raise them to her face.

"And Dimitri Tzarevitch, whom all Moscow met so joyfully, did he speak Russian?" asked the Princess contemptuously. "Besides, what can languages prove? Children learn and unlearn everything so easily."

"Gran Dio!" she exclaimed; and again coughing, the Princess laughed. "And you're not ashamed of repeating those idle tales? Listen to me, and remember my words."...

The Princess threw herself back in her chair. Bright spots appeared in her cheeks.

Striking her knee with her fan, and beginning again to cough, she continued,--

"I believe in the star of my destiny, and therefore I choose you as my ambassador to Count Orloff. I do not exact a speedy answer. Think over it, weigh well my words, and then give me your decision. You, again I repeat, are the first Russian in an honourable military position whom I have met abroad. You also have suffered, and also escaped from prison by a miracle. Who knows? perhaps Heaven saved you, like many others, and sent you to me."

Having said this, the Princess rose, and, with a most majestic salute, signified that the audience was concluded.

"What does it all mean? Who is she? What is she? A pretender, or a Russian grand duchess?" thought I, as, full of contending thoughts, I left the room of the Princess, and with faltering steps passed between the persons of her suite, who saluted me right and left with the greatest respect.

For several days I could not get rid of the most agitating ideas. I hardly left my room, walking backwards and forwards, then lying down, then writing letters, only, however, to tear them up again, and constantly thinking, "How could I, remembering the oath of allegiance which I had taken on entering the service? What ought I to do regarding the proposition of this mysterious Princess?"

One day her secretary, Charnomski, came to pay me a visit. He was a smart, elegantly-dressed man of about forty. He had once been very rich, had been a duellist and a Lovelace, had lost all his fortune at cards and in the affairs of the Confederation. He had not lost his fine manners, but was very conceited and insinuating, and--so rumour said--was serving the Princess because he was deeply in love with her. The conversation turned on the Princess. He was eloquent on the subject of her generosity, her fearlessness, and, having assured me on oath that all she had said of her past life was true, again renewed, in her name, an entreaty that I would side with her.

"But whose daughter is she? who was her father?" I asked, rather drily. "You only speak in her favour, but there must be proofs. Everything is so very doubtful."...

Charnomski reddened, and was silent several minutes.

It seemed to me at that time that this Princess's Ganymede curled and pomatumed in the last fashion, with his diamond ear-rings, was rouged.

"Oh! all that's nonsense; no one really knows anything about it," I answered.

"Of course it was a rather delicate affair, and was kept a great secret," continued Charnomski. "You are right, how should every one know? But I relate all this because I have it from a true source. What became of the other children, and whether any are still living, ... is not known.

The word "Tarakanovka" made me shudder in spite of myself. It sounded to me like a voice of the past. It reminded me of my far-off childhood, of our own little manor, Konsovka, and my late grandmother, Agraffena Vlassovna, who had known much of the past and present court; of the wonderful luck which had fallen to the lot of the shepherd of Lemechevski, who unexpectedly had become, instead of the singer, Aloshki Razouma, a count, and the privately married husband of the empress; of the accession to the throne of the new empress; of the attempt of Merovitch, and of many other events. Through him my grandfather, Irakli Konsov, who was a neighbour of the Razoumovskis in the village Lemesha, was loaded with favours, rose in his service, and died in a very high position.

"What did you say, grandmother?" I asked.

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