from that. There were many larger pictures of him in her heart, but out of that dark room they would never come developed; for they were only negatives, as most First Love pictures are.

The breathless, rainy afternoon wore on. Cynthia and the Swede rode on together; he could not tell that this little girl's life was over, and of his life she thought not at all; she did n't know he had one. Late in the afternoon the sky lightened and the rain almost stopped. Her father hurried back to her from his seat.

of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it." There was no soaring now, only weight. Descending they were, the angels, slowly-walking, touching every rung, not from choice but because to-day they could no longer fly.

She looked up at her father kindly and smiled a little, to thank him, a sunand-shower smile. The Swede smiled, too, seeing what they saw. And together-the man who could n't believe in miracles because they were Orthodox, and the child who could n't be

Sure enough, there it was. "And behold," she remembered, sadly, "a ladder set up on the earth, and the top

had turned against miracles, and the Swede who wore a look of simple enjoyment upon his face they watched the lovely rainbow fade.

F

OR many years the Empress Elisabeth of Russia had been an invalid. She had secretly imported a famous French physician who said that she suffered from "vapors" and convulsions. Elisabeth's personal physician was a Greek, Kondoidi, who at first refused to consult with the foreign specialist. After much diplomatizing on the part of the French and Russian governments, the rival doctors at last consented to meet. It turned out that they agreed in their diagnosis of melancholia and hysteria, and so they shook hands over the poor empress, who continued to get no better. Nothing more definite than this was she destined to die of. Because of the convulsions to which she was subject her death seemed several times imminent; but then she would suddenly pull herself together, and death would recede again to a respectful distance. Her illness and the Seven Years' War dragged on together, and the outcome in both cases was equally unpredictable. From the beginning of the year 1761, however, her condition patently grew worse. During the summer she fell into convulsions which caused her to lose consciousness for several hours at a time. On Christmas day, 1761, she died, at the age of fifty-two. Her span of life

was but slightly less than that of her tall turbulent father, Peter the Great, who died at fifty-three.

In the six weeks that intervened between the death and the burial of the empress, the new czar, her nephew, offended public opinion in numberless ways. While the Grand Duchess Catherine was diligently observing all the ritual ordained by the Greek Church for the dead autocrat, Peter the Third was conducting himself like a boy just let out from school. His sharp strident tones could be heard down the corridors, conveying the joyous excitement he was unable to control. He could not kneel endlessly beside the coffin, as Catherine did, nor even stand, but paced restlessly about the church talking and grimacing. On the day of the funeral his grotesque behavior shocked the people in the street. He was in a good humor, and allowed himself his little joke.

As the long procession passed through the Nevsky Prospect, across the bridge, and into the island fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, Peter walked immediately behind the coffin. He wore a mourning robe of state with a long train, the end of which was borne by Count Sheremetiev. The czar's little joke was to stop in his tracks from time to time and then hasten

forward with long strides to overtake the coffin. The unhappy count was unable to manage the train of his master, which flapped wildly in the wind to the great delight of the czar, who repeated the jest again and again. The procession was finally so jammed by this trick that a messenger was sent forward to stop the leaders until the others could catch up. The new czar, who amused himself so well at the funeral of his aunt, was nearly thirty-five years old. The public was scandalized, and his courtiers blushed for him before the gossips of Europe. Still they continued to kiss the hand of his Imperial Highness and to observe all the formulas of supreme respect. Like frightened crows they circled in awe around this feeble image of dignity and power.

The reign of Peter the Third lasted altogether six months. His ukases were a hodgepodge of foolish and reasonable commands. One day he gave an order that the gentlemen of the court might hunt ravens and other birds in the streets of Petersburg; also that they might shoot on sight all dogs found in the vicinity of the palace. Another day he freed the nobles from compulsory military service. Although the princes and counts were delighted with this, they still mistrusted their capricious emancipator and feared his next measure. Petersburg was filled with rumors of what this might be. It was reported that Peter meant to divorce Catherine and to marry one of her ladies-in-waiting, and that, to cement this innovation, all the other ladies of the court would be required to divorce their husbands and take new ones. So jumpy was public opinion and so whimsical was the czar that this was easily credited.

The political acts of Peter the Third were equally irresponsible. His first step as czar was to make peace overnight with Frederick the Great, with whom his aunt had been at war for seven years. He prattled about his devotion and allegiance to the King of Prussia with an openness which embarrassed even the Prussian representative. Not satisfied with a mere cessation of hostilities, he signed a treaty of eternal peace in April, 1762. It was celebrated with great pomp and ceremony, during which the czar brought forth his famous toast to the "3 X 3." On being questioned, he said that the trio whom he had in mind consisted of Peter the Third of Russia, George the Third of England, and Frederick the Third of Prussia. When it was pointed out to him that Frederick was only the Second, it did not disturb him in the least nor interfere with the elaborate design of fireworks -3 x 3-which he ordered blazoned forth upon the sky above the Neva. This was an alliance which the late empress had spent most of her life bitterly and successfully resisting. Peter had suddenly brought it to pass like a mischievous child. But it was too much like a harlequinade. What Europe wanted to know was how long it was going to last. The childish czar was playing with big destinies.

During the six months of Peter's reign, Catherine lived in strict retirement. When obliged to appear in public, she wore heavy black draperies edged with costly ermine. In April the new Winter Palace of stone overlooking the Neva, which had been begun by the late empress, was completed. The imperial family moved out of the old wooden palace on the Nevsky Prospect, of whose drafts and other

discomforts she had often complained as grand duchess. Catherine was assigned rooms at the opposite end of the new palace from the czar, where on April 11 she bore her second son. With this child, Catherine abandoned all pretense that he was the son of Peter. He was called Alexei Gregorevich Bobrinsky. His last name was taken from the beaver-skin in which the new-born babe was wrapped. His second name was that of his father, Gregory Orlov. Catherine's eldest son, Paul Petrovich, the child of Sergei Saltikov, was still represented to the world, however, as the son of Peter the Third.

82

Four months after his accession, Peter the Third called his wife a "fool" in public; it was at the great dinner given to celebrate the peace with Prussia. The silly irresponsible czar leaned forward in his place and shouted down the table, loud enough for all the nobles and diplomats to hear, "Dura," which means "fool." It is the epithet which one cab-driver bawls out to another in a street argument. The empress's eyes filled with tears, and she turned to Count Stroganov, who stood behind her chair, and begged him to say something amusing to keep her from crying. To Peter's foggy mind this seemed only a casual insult, nothing beyond the usual in this unfriendly marriage. On previous occasions he had resorted to blows and had once threatened her with a dagger. For Catherine, however, this "dura" was the last straw. Two months from that date the reign of Peter the Third came to an end and the reign of Catherine the Second began,

Catherine's conspiracy to depose her husband was simple. It was organized around her lover, Gregory Orlov. The five Orlov brothers were her agents and the focus of her plans, and there were enough of them to do most of the underground work needed in the barracks. Alexei, the eldest, was an unlettered tough-minded fellow with the strength of a wolf. Gregory, the second brother, famous for his applecheeked good looks, was softer and more sensitive. There still remained Ivan, Feodor, and Vladimir, who moved under Alexei's orders. It was a typical Russian brotherhood with Alexei as leader. The Orlovs were scattered through the different regiments, where they quietly suborned the officers with hints and ducats. In all, forty officers were sworn into the secret. secret. They were all Russians of ancient Russian lineage, except Catherine herself, who always tried to forget that she had German Lutheran blood in her veins.

On the night of June 27, 1762, the imperial family was more than usually divided, although the morrow was to usher in the celebration of the czar's name-day. Peter slept at Oranienbaum; Catherine slept at Peterhof; and the little grand duke slept in the Summer Palace at Petersburg. It was planned that the czar and his retinue should drive over the next morning from Oranienbaum to Peterhof, where the usual name-day celebration would take place.

Catherine spent the night in the little red-brick pavilion known as Monplaisir. It was a doll's house built by Peter the Great, whose head almost touched the ceiling, crowded as close down to the sea as he could crowd it. Catherine's bedroom opened

All night the gilded statues of gods and goddesses stood guard in the pale light. The fountains were still, awaiting the coming of the czar on the morrow when they would play. But at six o'clock in the morning, long before the expected arrival of the czar, a man came stealing through the park, skirted the main palace, and made his way down to the pavilion at the water's edge. He wore the uniform of a captain in the Preobrazhensky Regiment, and he seemed to know where he was going. A French window opened into the empress's bedroom. He stepped inside. Catherine was sleeping in a broad silken bed. "Matushka, Little Mother, wake up," he said. "The time has come."

The night had been a restless one in the city of Petersburg. The army had been mobilized for the campaign against Denmark and was ready to march as soon as the celebration of the czar's name-day at Peterhof should release him to accompany them. The war was unpopular, and the soldiers grumbled. Nevertheless they stood ready to go; it was the czar's orders. Late in the evening the news went round that Captain Passeck, the boon companion of Alexei Orlov, had been arrested; again the czar's orders.

Immediately the five Orlov brothers were in action. Captain Passeck was one of the forty officers who had been sworn into the conspiracy. Arrest was likely to be followed by torture, and Captain Passeck's secrets were not secrets that should be told to the inquisitors of Peter the Third. At once Alexei hired an ordinary carriage from the street, took with him a lieutenant, and drove to Peterhof. It was mid

Her festival dress was laid out ready for the day; but she did not put it on. She donned instead the black mourning-gown which she had taken off the night before. Together with Orlov and her maid she passed out through the park on foot, for the carriage had been left standing in the road outside the grounds. They were half an hour in reaching it. Catherine and her maid seated themselves in the carriage, and Orlov sat on the box with the driver. The hack-horses turned their faces toward Petersburg. They had traveled their twenty-nine versts that night and had now to travel them back again. Nevertheless, urged on by Alexei Orlov, they covered the distance in a third of the time it had taken them to come. The white dust from the roadway rose in clouds and settled on Catherine's black garments. About half-way to the city they met the hair-dresser on his way to Peterhof to prepare her for the gala day. She sent him back, telling him she would not need him. About five versts from the city they met Gregory Orlov with Prince Bariatinsky, who was also in the conspiracy. empress changed to Gregory's carriage because his horses were fresher. Escorted by her lover and Bariatinsky she drove up to the Ismailov Regiment.

The

An old priest was found to administer the oath of allegiance, while the whole regiment headed by Count Kyril Razumovsky, who had long been subservient to Catherine's charm, hastened to swear fealty to Catherine the Second of Russia. The empress got into her hired carriage again and, preceded by the priest and followed by