Rumours began to circulate that Alexis Gregorevitch had made the Princess many presents; that among other things he had given her his own miniature, painted on ivory and encircled with precious stones; that for her he had, even from the very first, deserted his much beloved favourite, the lovely and amiable wife of the rich Alexandre Lvovitch Davidoff, a born Orloff. There remained no doubt. The enchantress had won the heart of the count, our _preux_. The lion had fallen in love with a gay butterfly. Dazzled by her, the count no longer made a secret of his passion. He was to be seen openly with her everywhere--on the promenade, at the opera, or at church: it was all the same. One day the Princess did me the honour to call me. She began asking me about this and about that and assured me several times that she had more confidence in me than in any one else. The count also was always most amiable. Christianok, seeing me again in favour, had recourse to a little ruse. The cunning Greek began to complain that the Princess had been very sparing in her attentions to him at Rome, and that he could not forget it; she therefore, with the permission of the count, gave him a colonel’s brevet. I was passed by. I bore this injustice without a murmur, relying on the confidence reposed in me by the count and the Princess, of which I was soon to have proofs. “Well Konsov!” said the count to me one day, “honour and glory to you, who have known so well how to procure me the opportunity of making myself agreeable to such a person. We must prepare for her, in the future, a quiet and comfortable life. Is she not, truly, a lovely creature? What a lively and charming character! I must say, candidly, I’m almost ready to marry her myself, and have done with my bachelor life.…” “Well and why not, your Grace?” answered I. “What should there be to prevent it?” “She won’t consent, old fellow; she says, ‘I’ll consent only when I’m in my proper place.’” “How so? Excuse me, I don’t understand. What proper place?” “Oh! well, cannot you understand?… When she will be in Russia, at home,--well, when the empress will condescend to recognise her rights.” “But is there any hope of that?” Orloff became thoughtful. “Well, I think,” said he, “that it might be possible; I hope her friends will not spoil everything. They follow her so closely here, all those Poles, those Jesuits of all kinds. Who knows? They may poison us. They may shoot us; or give us a stab at the corner of the street with a hired _Kinjal_.[34] All they desire is a person for their disturbances.” The count seemed very much agitated. His frank, open and intelligent countenance seemed troubled. The passion of his heart, working as it were against his will, could be heard in his trembling voice, in each of his words. The day ended. The count did not leave his visitor for a minute.