While a Mecklenburg princess had attained to the regency of Russia, and

while her son was hailed as emperor, the Princess Elizabeth lived alone

and unnoticed in her small and modestly-furnished throne, and yet in St.

Petersburg was living the only rightful heir to the empire, the daughter

of Czar Peter the Great! And as she was young, beautiful, and amiable,

how came she to be set aside to make room for a stranger upon the throne

of her father, which belonged to her alone?

Princess Elizabeth had voluntarily kept aloof from all political

intrigues and all revolutions. In the interior of her palace she passed

happy days; her world, her life, and her pleasures were there. Princess

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Elizabeth desired not to reign; her only wish was to love and be loved.

The intoxicating splendor of worldly greatness was not so inviting to

her as the more intoxicating pleasure of blessed and happy love. She

would, above all things, be a woman, and enjoy the full possession of

her youth and happiness.

What cared she that her own rightful throne was occupied by a

stranger--what cared she for the blinding shimmer of a crown? Ah, it

troubled her not that she was poor, and possessed not even the means of

bestowing presents upon her favorites and friends. But she felt happy

in her poverty, for she was free to love whom she would, to raise to

herself whomsoever she might please.

It was a festival day that they were celebrating in the humble palace of

the emperor's daughter Elizabeth--certainly a festival day, for it was

the name-day of the princess.

The rooms were adorned with festoons and garlands, and all her

dependants and friends were gathered around her. Elizabeth saw not the

limited number of this band; she enjoyed herself with those who were

there, and lamented not the much greater number of those who had

forgotten her.

She was among her friends, in her little reception-room. Evening had

come, the household and the less trusted and favored of her adherents

had withdrawn, and only the most intimate, most favored friends now

remained with the princess.

They had conversed so long that they now recurred to the enjoyment of

that always-ready, always-pleasing art, music. A young man sang to the

accompaniment of a guitar.

Elizabeth listened, listlessly reclining upon her divan. Behind her

stood two gentlemen, who, like her, were delightedly listening to the

singing of the youth.

Elizabeth was a blooming, beautiful woman. She was to-day charming

to the eye in the crimson-velvet robe, embroidered with silver, that

enveloped her full, voluptuous form, leaving her neck and gorge free,

and displaying the delicate whiteness of her skin in beautiful contrast

with the purple of her robe. Perhaps a severe judge might not have

pronounced her face handsome according to the rules of the antique, but

it was one of those faces that please and bewitch the other sex; one of

those beauties whose charm consists not so much in the regularity of

the lines as in the ever-varying expression. There was so much that was

winning, enticing, supercilious, much-promising, and warm-glowing, in

the face of this woman! The full, swelling, deep-red lips, how charming

were they when she smiled; those dark, sparkling eyes, how seducing

were they when shaded by a soft veil of emotional enthusiasm; those

faintly-blushing cheeks, that heaving bosom, that voluptuous form, yet

resplendent with youthful gayety--for Elizabeth had not yet reached her

thirtieth year--whom would she not have animated, excited, transported?




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