The Princess Tarakanova: A Dark Chapter of Russian HistoryDanilevskii, G. P. (Grigorii Petrovich)
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The Princess Tarakanova: A Dark Chapter of Russian History
Danilevskii, G. P. (Grigorii Petrovich)
Tarakanova, Elizaveta, 1745-1775 -- Fiction
“There’s no Russian church here. The admiral has lent his, and that
accounts for the Princess’s arrival at Livorno, and her presence on
board.”
After a little while the decks began to be deserted, and many of the
suite, getting into the barges, were rowed back to land, amongst
others, the two cunning and clever Greeks, Ribas and Christianok.
On seeing them, I do not know why, there flashed through my mind the
words of the count to Ribas,--“Priest and vestments.” In the meantime
there were no clergy to be seen on board. The deck was becoming more
and more deserted. The officers were walking backwards and forwards,
gaily chatting and pointing their glasses at the occupants of the
boats. The band played a very gay march, and then an aria from a
well-known opera.
What took place below all this while has remained a mystery. Several
asserted afterwards that nothing particular had occurred, but that
at table the betrothal of the count and Princess had been solemnly
announced, and that all had drunk the health of the bridal couple.
Others on oath protested that in another cabin there had been a mock
marriage between the count and Princess, so that Orloff, in her eyes at
least, might seem to be keeping his word, and that in this sacrilegious
ceremony the _rôle_ of Priest and Deacon had been played by Christianok
and Ribas, who were dressed up in the vestments of the clergy of the
fleet, the first acting the part of deacon, and the second that of
priest.
But I am running on too fast; let us return to the deck of the _Three
Hierarchs_.
My strength fails me; my heart bursts; the pen falls from my fingers
when I recollect all that I was so soon to see.
Wherever I shall be,--if I remain, by a miracle of God, alive, or if I
am destined to perish in the waves,--the remembrance of all that I then
saw will only be effaced from my mind with my last dying groan.
The deck was full of life. All had left the cabins, and were now
sitting in detached groups; there was laughing and talking on all
sides; servants were running to and fro, with cooling drinks and wine.
The Princess was leaning over the side of the vessel. The wind was
rising; it was getting cool. She called me to her side with a friendly
nod. I helped her to put on her mantilla.
“If I live a hundred years I shall not forget this,” she whispered,
with a happy smile, shaking me warmly by the hand. “You have kept your
word. All is being fulfilled. I shall soon be in Russia, and once
there--why not hope? They will proclaim the future Empress Elizabeth
II.… Oh! now is the time for wonders. The present empress, what was she
a little while ago?”
Those words filled me with astonishment. I was silent, bewildered by
the wild fantasies of this poor blinded creature.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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