“Well! oh, it is very simple,” answered Miller. “Razoumovski, I should think, had nothing at all to do with it. The whole intrigue was brought to bear on the empress--not on the mother.… Very likely, many reasons were brought forward, and she consented. This secret daughter was hidden, sent to the South, and then over the Urals. In the papers of the Princess she speaks of poison, of flight from Siberia to Persia, afterwards to Germany, and then to France.… The Shouiskis of our days have repeated the old tragedy. In guarding the empress, they still kept in readiness for any emergency, a new refugee, saved by them from another world.” Ekaterina here remembered that Orloff, in one of his letters, had spoken of a Russian traveller, Ivan Shouvaloff, who was even now in foreign parts. “With you, one might go on talking for ever,” said Ekaterina, rising. “Your memory in itself is a whole archive, and a priceless one, too; and Russian history, is it not true? like Russia itself, is richest virgin-soil. How lovely our boundless corn-fields! But then, again, the weeds. Ah, _àpropos_! I do always admire your flowers and your birds. Now, do pay me a visit at Tzaritzin. Grimme has sent me a whole family of the loveliest cockatoos. One of them is always repeating ‘_où est la vérité?_’” Having with special graciousness thanked Miller for his information, the empress returned to the palace. Soon after this event, the hero of Chesma, Orloff, made his appearance. Alexis Gregorevitch failed to recognise the court. With new faces, a new order of things had been introduced. The count did not at once receive the honour of an interview with the empress. He was told she was not quite well. This made him feel very anxious. Well versed in court life, he scented disfavour in the air. It became urgent to take measures. Very diffidently, Alexis Gregorevitch turned to some of the courtiers to try and get an audience with the new sun, Potemkin. The interview took place with great politeness on both sides, but no geniality. Their old friendship and fraternity had been left far behind. They conversed till midnight, but the guest felt he had learnt very little. “Yes, now it’s all without measure, all overflowing,” said Potemkin _en passant_, speaking about something. Orloff long pondered over those words. “Overflowing!”--well, had not he also filled the measure too full? In the morning he was invited to go to the empress, whom he found bathing her dogs. “Sir Tom Anderson,” who had already been taken out of the bath and wiped dry, was warming himself under his coverlet. His consort, “Mimi,” was still in the water. Ekaterina sat near, holding ready the warm coverlet. Perekousikhin, in a large apron, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was very energetically rubbing the little dog with a sponge and soap. Quite wet, and white from the soap, Mimi, on seeing the big goggle-eyed stranger, began barking most furiously and straining to get at him.