Eleonore's words had brought reflection to Elizabeth. She comprehended
that her legitimate daughter would certainly be threatened with great
dangers after her death; she had shudderingly thought of poor Ivan in
Schlusselburg, and she said to herself: "As I have held him imprisoned
as a pretender, so may it happen to my daughter, one day, when I am
no more! Ivan had but a doubtful right to my throne, but Natalie is
indisputably the grand-daughter of Peter the Great--the blood of the
great Russian czar flows in her veins, and therefore Peter will fear
Natalie as I feared Ivan; therefore will he imprison and torment her as
I have imprisoned and tormented Ivan!"
By this affectionate anxiety was Elizabeth induced to make a secret
of the existence of her daughter, which was imparted to but a few
confidential friends.
The little Natalie was raised in a solitary country-house not far from
the city, and her few servants and people were forbidden under pain
of death to admit any stranger into this constantly-closed and
always-watched house. No one was to enter it without a written order of
the empress, and but few such written orders were given.
Elizabeth, then, as it were to recompense herself for the trouble of
signing the letter to the King of France, resolved to visit her daughter
to-day with her husband.
"Rasczinsky may precede and announce us," said she. "We will take our
dinner there, and he may say to our major-domo that we are going to
Peterhoff. Then no one will be surprised that we make a short halt at my
little villa in passing, or, rather, they will know nothing of it. Call
Rasczinsky!"
Count Rasczinsky was one of the few who were acquainted with the secret,
and might accompany the empress in these visits. Elizabeth had unlimited
confidence in him; she knew him to be a silent nobleman, and she
estimated him the more highly from the fact that he seemed much attached
to the charming, beautiful, and delicate child, her daughter. She
remarked that he appeared to love her as a brother, that he constantly
and fondly watched over her, and that he was never better pleased than
when, as a child, he could jest and play with her.
"Rasczinsky, we are about to ride out to the villa on a visit to
Natalie!" she said, when the count entered.
The count's eyes beamed with pleasure. "And I may be permitted to
accompany your majesty?" he hastily asked.
The empress smiled. "How impetuous you are!" said she. "Would not one
think you were a dying lover, a sighing shepherd, and it was a question
of seeking your tender shepherdess, instead of announcing to a child of
eleven years the speedy arrival of her mother?"
"Your majesty," said Count Rasczinsky, laughing, "I am not in love, but
I adore this child as my good angel. I can never do or think any thing
bad in Natalie's presence. She is so pure and innocent that one casts
down his eyes with shame before her, and when she glances at me with
her large, deep, and yet so childish eyes, I could directly fall upon my
knees and confess to her all my sins!"