Russia -- History -- Catherine II, 1762-1796 -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Elizabeth, 1741-1762 -- Fiction
The blood no longer flowed from Carlo’s wound, the breath no longer
rattled in his throat--it was silent; but a blessed smile still lay upon
his lips. With this smile had he died, happy, blessed in the embrace of
her he had so truly loved.
When Marianne, after long and vain efforts to open the door, had finally
managed, by tying her bed-clothes together, to let herself down into the
garden, and had thence hastened into the house, and up into Natalie’s
chamber, she found there all silent and still. Nothing stirred. Natalie
lay in a deathlike swoon.
He, Carlo, already stiffened in death, and she, the senseless Natalie,
with her head reclining against the marble face of her friend!
Poor Natalie! Why must Marianne succeed in awakening thee from thy
swoon? Why did you not let her continue in her insensibility, Marianne?
In sleep, she at least would not have realized that she was now left
entirely alone, entirely abandoned, with no one to defend her against
her cruel and artful enemies, of whose existence she never once dreamed!
INTRIGUES
Count Orloff lay in a comfortable, careless position upon his divan,
leisurely smoking his long Turkish pipe. Before him stood Joseph Ribas,
laughingly relating in his own comic manner the occurrences of the
preceding night.
“You are a wonderful man,” said Orloff, when Joseph had finished. “You
have honestly earned your epaulets, and to-day you will for the first
time appear at my dinner-table as a Russian officer. Ah, I prophesy a
great future for you. You have the requisite skill and address to make
your fortune. You are shrewd, daring, and you recoil from no means,
finding them all good and useful when they forward your aims. With such
principles one may go far in this world, and Russia in fact offers you
the best opportunity for bringing all these fine talents into use.”
“And, moreover, I commenced my Russian career with a good omen,” said
Joseph. “I have placed a murder at the head of my Russian deeds! That
is a promising commencement, is it not, Sir Count? You must know that
better than any one.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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