‘One day Empress Catherine made up her mind to clean the enormous mass of jewels of all kinds buried in the coffers that, since the reign of Peter the Great, had swallowed up enormous treasures of which there seem to be scarcely any knowledge in the palace. Dreading some theft during that general overhaul, the emperor appointed two captains of the guards to superintend the work. The father of our pretty mask was one of them. The view of all this wealth produced such a fascination in the eyes and the minds of the two inspectors that they also conceived the fatal idea of robbery. They agreed to abstract part of those treasures, hoping that the theft would pass unperceived. The spoil was divided between them. The one to whom came a lot of pearls lost no time in sending them to Amsterdam by a man in his trust. There, sold secretly, the money he received was employed by him in the repurchase of some family estates, which, however, he had the prudence to settle on his son. The other, whose share consisted of diamonds, waited for spring to proceed to England, promising himself to dispose of them to greater advantage than through the intermediary of an agent. ‘Among the number of stolen objects there was a diadem whose value exceeded a hundred thousand roubles. All these objects had been carefully hidden in the remotest corner of his apartments. Fatality, however, always dogs crime, and his wife discovered the hiding-place. In vain did her husband swear to her that the diadem did not belong to him, and that it was entrusted to his honour to keep for awhile. She begged of him, not to give it to her, but to let her wear it, if only for a moment, at one of the Court balls. He resisted, but she worried, begged, and wept to that extent that the captain, madly in love with his wife, unhappily gave in, trusting that the jewel, which had not seen daylight for perhaps a hundred years, would escape recognition by a person of the new generation. The young woman, who did not perceive that this diadem was metaphorically searing her forehead, got as far as the ball-room of the Hermitage. I need scarcely tell you of the looks of admiration and envy that marked her appearance. Up till then everything had gone well, but just amidst her greatest triumph old Mme. Pratazoff, standing behind the chair of the empress, hears Catherine go into raptures about the brilliancy of those stones. ‘“Madame,” says her confidante, bending over her, “there is no occasion for your majesty to be astonished. That diadem belonged to your majesty’s aunt, the empress. I have seen her wear it a score of times.” ‘The words supplied, as it were, a flash of light to Catherine, who got up, drew near to the young woman, who, delighted with her triumph, had, like Cinderella, forgotten her promise only to wear the jewel for a moment. ‘“May I ask you, madame,” said the empress, “who is the jeweller who mounted these stones?”